Foretold
by SLynn
Summary: A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he’s going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more? PreGregSara
1. True

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Pairing:** Do I write anything other than Greg/Sara? Didn't think so.

**Notes:** Well, this isn't thought I'd be writing, but it's what spilled out. Special thanks to Tripp3235 and RivenSky who keep me writing and keep me honest.

"_The best way to predict the future is to invent it."_

_**Alan Kay**_

**Chapter 1: True**

It felt like he'd been awake for days and truthfully he probably had. Greg had lost track at this point.

They were swamped with case after case and there was just no time to rest. He'd been a CSI for over a year now and still hadn't gotten use to the hours. It was so different from the lab. In the lab, you worked your hours and went home handing off whatever was left to the next shift for completion. In the field you had a case and you worked that case until you either solved it or hit the wall.

And he was about to hit that wall.

Hard.

Greg turned into the break room and sat heavily at the table.

"You look beat."

The voice nearly startled him, although he should be use to it by now. He was just continuously surprised at how often she turned up.

"I should," he replied back, turning and grinning. "Three cases, no leads. No sleep. No coffee."

Sara laughed and shook her head.

"No social life left. Probably no apartment either, I keep forgetting to pay the rent. It was due three, no wait, four days ago."

"Well," she said, "I can't help you with that last part but I can help with the caseload. Grissom asked me to give you a hand. I don't think he realized you were getting…"

"Dumped on?" he provided.

"Overwhelmed."

"I'm not overwhelmed," Greg argued, "I can handle it fine. I just don't have anything left to go on. All three cases are complete dead ends."

"Then a fresh set of eyes couldn't hurt."

Greg smiled at her. There wasn't any way he was going to turn down help, not at this point, but he really didn't like the idea that Grissom thought he might not be handling himself well.

"So," he said, "where do you want to start? I've got a hit and run that looks hopeless. Freak rainstorm washed just about everything away, everything but the body of course. A string of car thefts from a local lot that I know is some kind of insurance scam but I can't prove it."

"Don't assume then," she added, to which he shrugged.

"If you'd interviewed this guy you'd agree with me. He was practically giddy about it."

"Giddy?" she questioned, eyebrows raised at his word choice.

"I've been up since Tuesday; giddy is the best I can do."

"Okay," she said with a laugh, "what about your third case?"

"Just got back from it, robbery turned homicide at a gas station out on Blue Diamond. Got called about it fifteen minutes before shift change last night, which figures. If they'd just called a little later I'd be waking up right about now at home. Refreshed. Possibly having dinner. Did I mention I haven't eaten yet?"

"Any surveillance?" Sara asked, ignoring the last part.

"I wish. Place had cameras but they were decoration only. Three people dead and about four thousand prints. Twice as many tire tracks. I'm just waiting for the autopsies to be finished so I can hopefully retrieve the bullets and Bobby D can hopefully find a match."

"Well, why don't you go get some rest and I can page you when the results are in."

"Thanks but no. If I go to sleep now, I'm done for and I'm on tonight," Greg replied checking his watch and shaking his head at the realization that it was almost eight at night. He'd be awake for at least another twelve hours, possibly more. "A few more pots of coffee and something with lots of sugar and I'll be fine."

Sara nodded and he could tell she understood.

"Why are you here so early?" he asked after a moments pause.

"Paperwork," she answered holding up a large file. "Nick and I just closed the Branson case."

"Was it the butler?"

"Close. The gardener."

"Damn, I just lost twenty bucks."

"I hope that teaches you not to bet on cases," Sara said with a laugh.

"Well yes, it does. At least not against Warrick."

Before Sara could reprimand him further, Greg's phone rang. Checking the ID he was surprised and relieved to see it was Brass. Maybe they did get lucky on something after all.

"Sanders," he said into it, stifling a yawn.

Sara turned back to her folder but he could tell she was still listening. After a very brief conversation, he hung up and shifted in his chair.

"You ready to start helping me dig myself out?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Good because Brass says that a witness just came into the station about the triple homicide last night. He's got her in the interview room now but…"

Greg trailed off, lost in his own thoughts for a second.

"But what?"

"He said that the witness asked for me. Specifically. Didn't want to talk to him at all."

Sara's face screwed up in concentration.

"Maybe she doesn't feel comfortable giving a statement directly to the police," she provided.

"I guess," he said, sounding unconvinced. "Actually, I don't care. I just hope whoever it is can give us an ID."

Sara smirked at him as they stood to go.

"Me too," she said as they walked down the hall. "You get this one cleared and you'll have enough free time to clear the other two on your own."

"Oh no," Greg countered, "you offered to help and you're going to help. I'm not letting you off that easy."

"You know I wouldn't really do that."

"Uh huh," Greg responded back, as skeptically as he could but knowing she wasn't lying.

They laughed easily as they made their way out and Greg felt more refreshed for it than he imagined possible just a half hour earlier.

Another half hour passed and Greg's feelings had changed.

He and Sara were now in front of the woman and he couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. There was something he couldn't place about her. She looked familiar to Greg and he thought he recalled seeing her at the crime scene, but that wasn't it.

By midday word had gotten out about the murders and the usual crowd of onlookers had gathered. Per protocol, he'd snapped off several photos of them, but hadn't looked them over just yet. He had no doubt she'd be somewhere on that film.

But it wasn't that he recognized her, it was just a feeling he got that made him think he knew her somehow or from somewhere.

She wasn't very tall and probably was only in her mid-twenties. Bleach blond with lots of eyeliner. Altogether she was nothing abnormal for Vegas; the type that could blend into a crowd if the need struck her. Still, she was familiar to him and her name was Jane.

Just Jane she told them.

"So Jane," Greg began, "Detective Brass said you had some information for us about the homicides this morning on Blue Diamond."

"Is that what he said?"

Greg nodded.

"I didn't tell him that," Jane countered, sounding defensive.

"Okay," Greg continued thinking she might just be nervous or had witnessed something she might not be ready to deal with. He'd seen that before. "What did you tell him?"

"That I knew I could help," Jane answered, twisting in her seat and rubbing her hand roughly through her hair.

"We'd appreciate anything you can tell us," Greg said evenly, feeling bad even. She was distressed about this.

"I don't know what I can say."

"You do have something, don't you?" Sara jumped in, obviously not liking this type of run-around.

"Yes, but you need to understand," Jane continued. "If I tell you, you won't understand. I just can't say it."

"But you were there," Greg added.

Jane nodded shortly.

"At the gas station today?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Were you there last night when it happened? If you saw anything, if you're afraid, we can get you protection but we need you to…"

"No," she sighed, shaking her head and turning partially away. "You don't…it's not about that. I don't have anything for you about that."

"So what do you have?" Sara asked.

"Blue."

"Excuse me?" Sara asked again.

"Blue," she repeated, addressing Greg. "It's all I see."

"I'm not sure what…"

Sara sighed and shook her head.

"You'll understand," Jane went on, undisturbed by Sara's reaction. "Not now, but soon."

Greg sat back, not sure what to say next, waiting for Sara to jump back in. Maybe it was the lack of sleep but the whole situation seemed unreal to him.

"See," Jane said, leaning in and speaking as if it was only Greg and her in the room. "There's a reason I was there today. I don't normally…I've never even been to that side of town. But today I did. Something drew me there."

Sara set down her pad of paper and pen on the table and leaned back shaking her head.

"I'm not sure I…" Greg started to say but was quickly cut off.

"It was you," she finished, staring at him now with clear blue eyes. "It was you. You're the one."

"I'm the one what?" he asked back.

"You're the one that's going to solve it."

"I thought you didn't know anything about these murders."

"No," she said slapping her hands down heavily on the table. "I don't. It's not that."

"Then what is it?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"You'll solve it and it'll stop."

* * *

Sara had been on the point of breaking up the interview when Brass had stepped in and made it all unnecessary. He'd been watching from behind the glass the entire time and knew it was time to stop things. Greg, still fairly inexperienced with these things, didn't need to be wasting time this way.

Besides, Brass knew from experience how dangerous these types of people, people like Jane, could be.

She was obviously attention seeking and also obviously fixated on Greg.

As soon as they had her out of the building he pulled both of them into his office for a chat.

"What was that?" Greg asked, first looking to Sara and then to Brass.

Sara once more shook her head and suppressed a smile. It was sometimes easy to forget that Greg hadn't been doing this long as well as he'd gotten at collecting evidence. Still, collecting evidence and dealing with people were two completely separate things.

"It happens," Brass answered. "Sometimes you get a witness who isn't a witness, just someone wanting to feel important."

Greg nodded and then looked up skeptically.

"I thought that sort of thing only happened on big cases. I mean, I know three people dead isn't exactly small time, but…"

"It doesn't matter," Sara interrupted, "not to them. That type. I had a guy spend half an hour once telling me that Elvis was responsible for a string of jewelry store robberies."

"Elvis?" Greg questioned and even Brass looked amused.

"Yeah," Sara answered. "He was replacing his rhinestones with the real thing."

Greg smiled and looked down, feeling a bit stupid. He hadn't thought for a moment that Jane had been lying or leading him on. He'd thought she was telling them the truth.

"It happens," Brass supplied, reading Greg all too easily, "to everyone at one time or another. Don't worry about it. Just forget it and concentrate on the case. She won't be back."

"Thanks," Greg said as a way of goodbye before turning to go, Sara fast on his heels.

They didn't speak again until they were almost back at the lab.

Greg just laughed softly and shook his head once more.

"You know," he said turning to Sara as she parked in the garage, "I thought she had something. Maybe I just wanted her to, but there was something about her eyes. She believed what she was saying."

"I'm sure she did," Sara agreed. "They all do Greg, but that doesn't mean it was the truth."

"It's just," he started to say and then thought better of it.

Sara waited for a second for him to continue and realized once he unbuckled and got out of the vehicle he wasn't going to.

He walked ahead without her trying to put everything in place. Maybe he really did just need some sleep. His head felt fuzzy and for some reason he couldn't get her out of it.

Jane.

Regardless of what either Brass or Sara had said, he couldn't help but think that maybe there was something to what she said.

It had just felt true.


	2. Coincidence

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."_

_**Auric Goldfinger**_

**Chapter 2: Coincidence**

The end of shift came quicker than Greg could have wished for. There had been no new cases to go out on and with Sara's help they had put a fairly large dent in work at hand. He hadn't even had time to go over the crowd photos, as he'd planned, from the gas station homicides, and that was probably for the best.

Sara had been certain that once he had, Jane wouldn't even be in them. She'd told him that typically people that do come in with false information end up being no where near the crime when it takes place. Sara was certain Jane was a fake and by the end of the night, Greg was too.

And that's why he liked working with her.

Anyone else would have probably made him feel stupid for even thinking that woman might have something new to tell, but not Sara. She was really good at giving advice and direction without making you feel like you needed it.

Greg sat down at his locker, almost too tired to open it and retrieve his stuff when he heard the doors open up to his left.

Nick came in followed shortly by Sara, both smiling and as glad to be going home as he was.

"Greg," Nick said sitting down next to him, "we're all going to breakfast, you in?"

"Not today," he answered, glancing quickly to Sara and then back to Nick, "I'm just too beat. I'll fall asleep in my eggs. Next time."

"Come on," Nick prodded, "Warrick's bringing Tina. Aren't you at least curious to meet her?"

"The only thing I'm curious about right now is what I might dream."

Sara smiled and Nick shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"I'll send your best," Nick said, heading back for the door.

"Do that," Greg returned.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Sara asked, having hung back on purpose to ask again.

"I want to," Greg answered, really meaning it, "I just can't. I'll be lucky if I make the drive home."

"One of us could give you a lift," she suggested. "You probably shouldn't be driving anyway. I don't mind dropping you off."

Greg smiled and was really tempted to take her up on it, but had second thoughts.

"No," he finally said. "Really, that's okay. If you did that then you'd have to come pick me back up or I'd have to find a way back to my car later. It's not worth the hassle it would cause you. Thanks though."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he said with a nod and a smile. "Besides, I'm sure I have some stale kind of breakfast food lying around my place."

"Okay," she said smiling back as she too retreated for the door.

Sara hadn't been gone long before she was back.

"Greg," she called, catching his attention once more, "don't forget to pay your rent."

"Thanks," he said with a laugh.

"I'd hate to see you sleeping in your car," she said as she left once more.

* * *

Greg woke up around four that afternoon, not exactly rejuvenated, but feeling better than before.

The plan was to go for a quick jog, shower and then have dinner. After accomplishing two of the three, he realized he didn't have anything for dinner. Well, nothing edible. There was some two week old milk that almost qualified as cottage cheese, what looked like three shrunken apples and not much else.

He had no choice but to go grocery shopping.

Greg hated the super market. He hated it because there was no right time to go. Vegas was a twenty-four seven town and that meant that at any given time two-thirds of the city was off work. And of that two-thirds, nearly half of them were at the super market. It was always crowded, always under stocked and always a pain in the ass.

But he had little choice.

He could just go get something to go, but then he'd be back in this same situation tomorrow. It was better to just get it over with.

Greg put together a quick mental list before heading to the local Smith's. After two near misses from other disgruntled shoppers, he found a spot, only to end up dodging another three cars to make his way inside.

He was halfway through the store, rounding the corner to the snack food aisle, when he stopped.

Up ahead, seemingly unaware of him, was Jane.

Greg had two options. He could either continue down the aisle and ignore her, or he could turn back around and skip the aisle altogether.

Ultimately the need for pecan sandies won out and he pressed forward. After all, she might not remember him. She might turn and go at any moment without seeing him.

Or she could be waiting for him.

Jane turned just as he got close and offered up a weak smile. Greg nodded at her in recognition and stopped, not sure what to do next.

"I don't normally shop here," she said, putting the box of animal crackers she'd been holding back on the shelf.

Greg looked around and realized she didn't have a cart, she didn't even have a basket.

"Doesn't look like your doing much shopping," he said after a pause.

"I was thinking of buying those," she said, indicating the crackers behind her, "but I'd never eat them."

"I don't like the plain myself," Greg supplied, feeling the need to say something. "The frosted ones are better."

"They're bitter."

Greg raised an eyebrow, not sure what she meant.

"The plain," she continued. "They're bitter. They taste like lemons. That and I never really liked clowns. I don't know why I thought of buying them."

"I really shouldn't be talking to you," Greg said, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Oh," Jane said, shifting from foot to foot, "I get that."

"Outside of work," he went on, feeling like he was being rude but not knowing any other way to get around her.

"I didn't really get a chance to talk to you today," Jane pressed sounding more focused then before. "I still have a lot to tell you."

"Well," he said, getting ready to move forward, "you can call the station and set up another interview."

"But you don't work there," she said, shaking her head. "You work at the lab. I don't really need to talk to anyone but you. If you have some time now…"

"No," Greg cut her off firmly. "I can't now. I'm running late for work."

"Then should I call the lab?" she questioned, as he pushed his cart past her and began to move down the aisle again.

"The station," he said without looking back. "Call the station."

Greg made it around the corner and didn't look back. Instead of finishing his shopping he headed straight to check out and was relieved not to run into Jane again.

Racing home quicker than usual he hastily put away his things, changed and headed back to the lab.

Greg had photos to check.

* * *

An hour before shift change Warrick walked in on Greg in the A/V room.

"You're either looking to make level two in record time or someone is seriously on your ass to finish these cases," he said with half a smile.

Greg didn't return it, just kept clicking through photos on the computer.

"What's up?" Warrick asked, coming closer and getting concerned.

"What would you say is wrong with these pictures?"

Greg stood letting Warrick have his chair. After a few moments of scrolling through thumbnails Warrick caught on.

"Who is that?"

"That's Jane," Greg answered shaking his head. "She came in yesterday saying she had information, but not about that case."

Warrick opened one particular picture up, a good shot that showed her complete face.

"Sara and Brass said she was probably attention seeking," Greg continued, feeling him out for his opinion.

"Yeah," Warrick nodded, "I've met my fair share of the type."

"But they also said she probably wasn't at the scene."

Warrick didn't answer that, just shrugged. Usually that type wasn't at the scene. The typical scenario was that they'd hear it on the news, on a scanner, wherever and then show up claiming to have something significant when, nine times out of ten, they have no involvement or connection at all.

"She's definitely at the scene," Warrick returned. "Did you take these?"

Greg nodded.

"How?"

"The way you taught me to," he answered. "As quickly as I could without attracting attention."

"Then how…"

"I don't know."

Warrick scrolled back through the photos and shook his head again. Every single crowd shot Jane was in; she was looking right into the camera. Every one of them. It was uncanny and a bit unnerving.

"It gets stranger," Greg said after a moments pause.

"How?"

"I ran into her tonight."

"Where? Here?"

"I wish," Greg returned. "She was at the store. I was shopping and it was like she was waiting for me."

Warrick looked at him seriously and realized Greg seemed a bit rattled. He was fidgeting more than normal and tapping his foot incessantly.

"That could be a coincidence," Greg went on, "couldn't it?"

"A pretty big one."

Greg nodded. He knew that, just needed someone else to say the same.

"What should I do?"

"Your phone's unlisted right?"

Greg nodded.

"Go to Grissom," Warrick supplied. "He needs to know and you might have to call Brass, too."

"You think…"

"I think it's better if you play this safe."


	3. Belief

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** I'd apologize for taking so long with this chapter, but it wouldn't be sincere. Yes, I wished I'd gotten it out sooner but considering I finally had my baby I'm sure you all understand why I didn't. That aside, this chapter was extremely hard to write but I'm very happy with the outcome.

"_I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief."_

_**Gerry Spence**_

**Chapter 3: Belief **

His conversation with Grissom had been very much to the point. Greg did his best to down play his own concerns, feeling that he might be overreacting, but to his surprise Grissom didn't seem to think he was at all.

However, there wasn't much that could be done. Grissom said he'd alert Brass and that at best they'd look into Jane, but that was it. He told Greg to keep an eye out for her or for anything suspicious and to keep him informed. He also stressed that should he run into Jane again he should avoid her at all costs. Grissom didn't want Greg talking with her at all outside of work if it could be helped.

Not entirely relieved, Greg had agreed. Really there wasn't much to go on. All they had was a first name and a description that matched half the twenty-something's in town. It was the best any of them could do.

Trying his best to put it from his mind and concentrate at the task at hand Greg was glad for the interruption Sara provided.

"You busy?" she asked after tapping lightly at the door.

"I wouldn't be if you were helping me like you promised," he offered back with a smile.

"I help you, you help me," Sara returned. "Got a murder in North Vegas. Interested?"

"What kind?"

"What, now you're picky?" she shot back. "Use to be you'd beg to come along for a smash and grab."

"That was before I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Come on," she prodded. "It sounds routine. It won't take too long and it will give you a break from all this paperwork."

Greg looked down at the stacks of insurance claims and policies he had laid out before him in a vain effort to pin Leo Evans on fraud charges.

"We can even stop for coffee on the way," Sara persisted.

Greg wasn't moved.

"My treat."

"Yeah," Greg nodded, shuffling papers back together, "okay. It's not like I'm getting anywhere on this."

Sara smiled and waited for him to finish.

"It really isn't going to take long?" he questioned as they headed towards the garage after retrieving their cases.

"Nope. It'll be a piece of cake."

* * *

It was hard to even determine where they should begin. Sofia had met them at the entrance of the apartment and he knew from the odd smile on her face that his night had just gotten longer.

"Victim's name is Robert Cummings, forty-seven, lives alone. Neighbors hadn't seen him in a few days, got suspicious and forced their way in through the patio door."

Sara nodded and both of them followed her inside.

Greg winced upon crossing the threshold, taken back by the smell. It wasn't just the smell of a decomp that hit him, the place would likely have reeked regardless. Undoubtedly somewhere hiding had to be at least a dozen cats, a weeks worth of rotten garbage and something that was emitting a vague cabbage-like odor. Greg blinked several times adjusting to it. Sara and Sofia both seemed completely undisturbed.

And it wasn't just the smell, it was the mess. The apartment was filled with boxes and newspapers. There didn't seem to be a single spot on the floor or the furniture that wasn't littered in trash.

"How long has this guy been dead?" he asked as they weaved their way through it and to the back bedroom.

"Three days at least," David answered, still kneeling over the body. "Maybe more. Air conditioning was turned way down, slowed the decomposition, but not much."

Sara and Greg stood shoulder to shoulder as they looked down at the remains of Mr. Cummings. He was naked except for a towel lying face down in a pool of dried blood.

"Looks like blunt force trauma to the head," Sofia said to the both of them.

"Maybe a robbery gone badly," Sara said still looking down at the body. "Could have surprised him while he was getting ready for the shower."

Greg looked over his shoulder at the room. It, like the rest of the apartment, was stacked to the ceiling with boxes and looked completely unlivable.

"If this was a robbery, how are we going to know if anything was taken?" he asked in disbelief.

"Good luck with that," Sofia said smiling. "I'm going to go talk to the neighbors."

Sofia stepped around them both, still smiling, as she made for the door.

"Yeah," David said getting to his feet, eager to escape as well, "just let me know when you're ready for me to take the body."

With that he was gone, leaving the just the two of them in what had to be the filthiest crime scene Greg had ever come across.

"Piece of cake huh?"

* * *

They made it back to the lab just in time for shift change. Feeling bad about dragging him out to what should have been a very routine case, Sara had offered to buy breakfast. While not willing to let her pay, or buy her way out of it that easily, Greg couldn't say no either and after everything was labeled and stored they headed to the diner down the street together.

"So," Sara said just after their food arrived, "what are you doing with your day off?"

"Nothing really," he admitted. "Go home, catch some sleep and then probably come back in to try and catch up."

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised.

"Why?" he asked in between bites of pancakes.

"I just thought you'd be going out or something."

"Like on a date."

"Yeah," Sara returned, looking down at her plate.

Greg let out a small laugh.

"I don't really get out as much as I use to."

Sara nodded, still looking down.

"Actually," he went on, "this is the closest I've come to date in the last six months. Not that this…"

Greg trailed off and looked down at his own plate intently thinking that sometimes he'd just be better off keeping his mouth shut.

Sara abruptly changed the topic by relating the contents of the latest article she'd read in the Forensics Journal. Honestly, Greg was relieved. More and more they'd been having these little awkward moments between them. Ones he just didn't know what to do about.

Not that he didn't like Sara, he really did. He'd spent a couple of years even trying to get her to go out with him to no avail. Greg didn't take it personally; it was just one of those things. Sure, she'd never come out and flatly told him she wasn't interested, but she'd never accepted either. And regardless of what most people thought, he could take a hint. She just wasn't interested in him.

He'd settled for friendship and found that it suited them both. They had a fun and flirty camaraderie that was easy to enjoy, but lately it felt stilted. Like it could be more, but it wasn't. Then there were moments when it was just tense, like now, for no real reason. Greg wasn't sure what to make of it, what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.

His only option really was to ignore it. If the circumstances had been different, he'd know exactly what to do, but not now. Sara was his friend and you just didn't ask out your friends like that, chemistry or no. It wasn't worth risking what they already had for what they could have. Besides there was work to consider. If they got involved and it ended badly, where would that leave them?

Even worse, what if he was completely misreading the situation? What if he was just imagining it? Awkward would be replaced by mortifying in a matter of seconds, and Greg definitely didn't want to go there.

They both finished their breakfasts and hung out a while longer but not much, saying a quick goodbye in the parking lot.

As Greg got into his car it dawned on him that he'd left his jacket behind. Darting inside he found it just where he'd left it. The waitress gave him a small smile as he tugged it back on. Turning to go he ran smack into Jane.

At first Greg was just going to step around her and keep heading for the door, but the expectant look on her face stopped him cold.

"I know I shouldn't be here," she began, holding up both hands and then quickly dropping them back to her side. "I just … I had to come tell you now. I may not have another chance."

"If you really want to talk to me we can go…"

"No," she said animatedly. "No. I don't trust ... and it has nothing…"

Jane stopped and looked down, clearly growing upset.

Greg sighed and shook his head, fully aware he was about to do something that was probably stupid and exactly the opposite of what Grissom had told him to do.

"Why don't we sit down here and talk then," he suggested, much to her relief.

Greg slid back into the booth he'd just abandoned and Jane quickly followed, moving in directly across from him.

The waitress came back and eyed him suspiciously. He realized it must look odd, seeing as he'd just ate and left, but didn't have the energy to worry about what she must be thinking.

"What can I get you hon?"

"Coffee," Greg said automatically.

"And you?" she asked, turning to Jane.

"Wheat toast, dry, without the crust and grape jelly on the side please."

"Anything to drink?"

"Just water."

The waitress gave them both one more odd look before leaving them alone.

"So?" Greg asked, hoping to get this over with quick.

"I know you must think this is all just strange, but really, I've never done this type of thing before."

"I'm not sure…"

"Give me a minute," she interrupted, "I'm trying to explain."

Jane paused and looked down at her hands in serious contemplation. She'd almost begun speaking again when their order arrived, but held off until they were alone again.

"I've been having these dreams. They aren't very clear, but I've been having them for months now. Sometimes I see a bit more but mostly it's just a quick snatch of a place or a sound."

Greg nodded and tried not to look too incredulous.

"The last few weeks it's gotten worse," she went on. "I'm having them every night now and …"

She trailed off as her face grew grim.

"Okay," Greg cut in, "but what does this have to do with me?"

"I told you. You're the one who is going to solve it. You're going to stop it all."

"I think you've got the wrong person," Greg said with a small shake of his head.

"No, I don't."

"Alright, so what can you tell me about these dreams."

"Not much," she said as she began to tear her toast into tiny pieces. "I don't remember much about them. All I get are impressions really."

"Like blue?"

Jane smiled at him, glad he'd remembered.

"Yes."

"That's not a lot to go off of."

"I know," she admitted. "If I could tell you more, I would."

"Jane," Greg started cautiously. "I want to believe you. I do, but…"

"You think I'm lying," she finished.

"No," he corrected. "Not lying. But try to see it from my perspective. You haven't really told me a lot and I don't even know who you are. Plus, you keep turning up…"

She nodded with a funny smile on her face.

"I wouldn't believe me either," she told him, "but you have to. Please. I'm not making this up. People are going to get hurt. It's going to start over again."

Greg quirked an eyebrow at her, curious as to what that could mean, but Jane seemed not to notice.

"What's going to start over?"

Jane shook her head, at a loss herself.

For a full minute they sat in silence. Greg downed the last of his coffee and knew that he should be going.

"You didn't tell me why I should believe you," he finally said, and then added on as an afterthought. "And your name isn't really Jane, is it?"

"I'm not a real blond either," she answered with a shrug.

"Who is," he returned and for the first time she gave him a real smile.

"That doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth."

"No, it doesn't. But it would help me trust you."

She seemed to be thinking this over as she picked up his empty coffee cup and turned it round in her hands several times.

"My real name is Ashley," she finally said. "Ashley Baker."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say, so with that Greg put down enough money to cover the tab and said a quick goodbye once more asking her to call the lab or police department if she had anything else. Hoping that that would keep her from popping up unexpectedly at him, but seriously doubting it would.

He stood to go but Ashley didn't seem to be ready. Instead she continued to sit there, still holding that cup. Hesitantly he made his way past her, but didn't get far before her voice rang out to him.

"He's sick, isn't he?"

Greg turned back around, not sure if he'd heard her correctly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Has been for some time."

Greg felt frozen to the spot, completely thunderstruck.

"You're worried that if you don't go home soon it'll be too late. But you're not sure if you're ready to accept it yet either."

He tried to ask her how? How she could possibly know any of that and where she'd heard it from. It just wasn't possible. It wasn't something he'd told anyone.

Ashley finally turned round to face him, her face completely blank.

"Now do you believe me?"


	4. Trouble

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me.  
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be."_

**_The Beatles 'Let it Be'_**

**Chapter 4: Trouble**

Sara checked her watch again.

It was just after three in the morning, almost halfway through shift and Greg hadn't come in.

Typically, if he was going to come in on his night off, he'd be in before two. It was a fairly normal thing for him. Greg, like the rest of them, didn't seem to know when to quit. And even though Sara hadn't really believed he would show up tonight, she found herself disappointed as she realized he wouldn't.

Shaking her head and getting back to her photos from last night, it dawned on her that this was probably the longest she'd gone without seeing him in two or three months at least. Maybe more. Sara and Greg frequently worked the same cases. Even when they didn't, he would often come ask her opinion about something, or vice versa. In the very least she saw him before or after shift in the locker room.

Knowing that she wouldn't be seeing him tonight left her with an odd sensation in her stomach. A feeling she wasn't quite sure she was ready to touch on. Not yet at least.

Resolved not to check her watch again, Sara inadvertently turned to the clock instead earning a smirk from Nick.

"You got somewhere else to be?" he asked half-mockingly.

"No," Sara said, turning quickly back to the work at hand. "I just hate pouring through this mess."

"Since when?"

Sara rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"Well," he went on, coming round to her side of the table, "this may speed things up."

Nick placed a picture in front of her from the crime scene she and Greg had visited last night. He had agreed to take over in place of Greg without question, but the two of them weren't making any real headway.

"What am I looking at?" Sara asked.

It was a legitimate question given that the victim's apartment had been so littered with debris she and Greg had almost gotten lost in it.

"Check out the indentation on the carpet," Nick explained, pointing to a bare spot of floor. "Looks like something was taken."

"Or just moved," Sara countered.

Nick shrugged, not denying it.

"Still," Sara said, scrutinizing the picture once more, "it's something. More than we had at least. Judging by the size, it looks like there could have been a box there."

"Well what was in the other boxes?" Nick questioned, knowing it could clue them in on what might have been taken.

"Don't know. We never…"

Sara stopped mid-sentence at the sharp tap on the door. Turning as one, Nick and Sara saw Sofia peek her head inside.

"Sorry," she said as she took a step inside. "I was looking for Greg. I know he's off tonight but I thought he might have stopped by to catch up."

"Yeah," Nick answered first, "he was going to but he called a few hours ago and said he couldn't make it."

"He called?" Sara asked surprised, turning quickly back to Nick.

Nick looked from Sofia to Sara and back again not sure what was going on. Feeling that he was obviously missing something. Thinking he now knew why Sara had been staring at the clock all night.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "He's not in trouble or anything, right?"

"No," Sofia said shaking his head, "nothing's wrong. Brass asked me to check out something for a case he's on."

Nick nodded, but continued to watch Sara who had keyed in on what Sofia was saying.

"I'll give him a call in the morning," Sofia finished, giving a short nod as a way of saying goodbye and heading out the door.

Before Nick could ask Sara exactly what that was about she got up and excused herself from the room.

"Sofia," Sara called out, "wait a minute."

Sara caught her just before she rounded the corner.

"What did you find?"

"I don't…"

"Jane," Sara went on, "I know that's what Brass had you looking into. What did you find?"

"I'm not really supposed to be telling everyone…"

"I'm not everyone," Sara interrupted.

Sofia sighed and motioned Sara towards the break room.

"We ran the photo of her through the counties facial-recognition program to see if she was on file," Sofia started as they sat down at the table with the folder between them. "We didn't have fingerprints and it was a long shot but we got a match. Woman's name is Ashley Baker. She's twenty-three, been arrested a few times for fraud."

"No convictions?" Sara asked as she flipped through the contents of the file.

"None," Sofia confirmed. "Charges were dropped both times. Her latest arrest was for the same. Also dropped."

"Why?"

"Because like the previous cases the victim wasn't the one filing the claim."

"I don't…"

"Each of the arrests, it's been a family member or a friend of the victim making the charge. Not the victim. Seems Ms. Baker here has a pattern of luring in a mark, befriending them and then taking what she can get until she's run off."

"So even after that," Sara said looking over the previous arrests once more, "after taking…wow…last time it was over seven thousand dollars? Even after that there weren't formal charges made?"

"Said it was a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yeah," Sofia said with a short nod. "Ms. Baker said it was a gift and she was backed up by Mrs. Juarez. Of course the family didn't agree but…"

Sofia shrugged her shoulders; there wasn't anything else they could do.

"But why would she just give her that much money?"

"Because she said she was psychic."

Sara just stared at her in disbelief.

"Mrs. Juarez said she gave Ms. Baker the money for helping her communicate with her dead husband."

Sara let out a huff of anger.

"All of the other charges were pretty much the same. All older people with recently deceased partners. This girl comes in, says she can get in touch with them…"

"For a price," Sara added.

"For a price," Sofia repeated with a nod, "and then does whatever it is she does, collects what she can and leaves."

"And these are the only charges…"

"So anyone without family to step in likely didn't. She's probably done it dozens of times. Nice scam she's got going on I'd say."

"Alright," Sara said after a pause, "then what's her angle with Greg? She can't believe he'd fall for this."

"I don't know," Sofia said, standing to go.

"Listen," Sara said following her once more, "I have to call Greg about a case we're working on tomorrow morning. I could pass this on to him if you want."

"You sure?"

Sara just nodded in return.

"Okay," Sofia said somewhat reluctantly handing over the file. "Just be sure to let him know right away."

"Don't worry. I've got it covered."

* * *

The first time he heard it, he ignored it. After all, it was nearly four in the morning. No one he knew came by at four in the morning.

Then he heard it again. Louder this time and much more persistent.

Taking off his headset, Greg turned away from his laptop and looked over his shoulder towards the living room.

And there it was.

Someone was definitely knocking, loudly, at his front door.

"Hold on," he called out as he made his way to the disturbance.

Maybe the building was on fire, he thought, as it was the only reason he could come up with to why someone would be banging on his door this late and with such intensity.

"Sara," he said, completely taken aback as he opened the door.

"You didn't answer your phone," she said, not waiting for him to invite her in and just stepping around him instead.

"It's four in the morning," he stammered back.

"And you didn't answer your phone," she repeated. "I called six times."

Greg didn't know how to respond to that so instead he turned lamely around the room looking for his cell.

"It's in your car," Sara supplied. "I checked it before coming up."

"Is there some kind of emergency?" Greg asked. It was the only reason he could think of that would explain her behavior.

"You're supposed to keep that on you at all times."

"And I do," he countered, "normally. I just forgot it I guess. Why? Is it one of those drills? Did I…"

"No," she cut him off, "I just… it's not important just don't do it again."

"Okay," he returned, still not understanding what was going on.

As they stood there in mutual silence Greg realized that Sara hadn't ever come by his apartment before and was a bit embarrassed at its current state. He wasn't a messy person, but if he'd of guessed she was coming over he'd at least have moved his laundry to the bedroom.

"Aren't you working tonight?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," she answered having apparently calmed down. "I can't stay long. I just needed to tell you that Sofia looked into that girl from the convenience store, the one with the false leads. She's not a Jane after all but an Ashley. Ashley…"

"Baker," Greg cut in, "yeah, I know."

"You do?"

Greg just nodded again, looking down and shuffling his feet.

"How?"

"I talked to her today."

"What?" Sara asked sharply. "When? Where?"

"You forgot why."

"I was getting to it," Sara returned seriously. "Why Greg? Didn't Grissom tell you not to?"

"He did."

"And?"

"And what?" he asked back, taking a seat on the couch. Choosing to ignore the look she was giving him.

"Greg."

"Okay, I know I shouldn't have. I should have just walked away, but I just wanted to hear her out."

Sara sat down as well, waiting for him to continue.

"I left my coat at breakfast this morning and went back inside to get it and Ashley was there. Waiting. Like she knew…but never mind that. We talked. She didn't really have much to say but…"

"But," Sara prodded.

"I don't know. She really thinks something bad is going to happen."

"Did she give you any details?"

"Not really," Greg admitted. "It was like she couldn't. She must know more than she's letting on but for some reason..."

Greg stopped talking as he noticed Sara had begun silently shaking her head.

"What?"

"She's a fraud Greg."

Greg continued to stare at her as if he didn't understand what she'd just said.

"She rips people off," Sara continued handing him the file she'd gotten from Sofia. "Tells them that she can help them speak with their dead loved ones and takes them for everything they have."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does."

"No," he argued. "This can't be the same person. Ashley Baker can't be that uncommon of a name."

"It's her," Sara returned, taking the file and flipping to the mug shot as confirmation.

"But what would she get by telling me…"

Sara stared at him as he struggled to work it out, clearly conflicted.

"…she wouldn't gain anything…" Greg mumbled as he scanned over the police records in hand. "…and how would she have known…"

"Known what?"

Greg looked up as it dawned on him he was talking out loud.

"Nothing."

Sara studied him for a second or two, completely unconvinced.

"When I talked to her today she knew things about me," Greg admitted.

"What kind of things?"

"Personal things," he answered bluntly, making it clear he wasn't going to divulge any more than that.

"Did she say anything else? Ask for anything?"

"No. She hardly said anything really. Just pretty much the same as she'd said before, about there being a murder and me solving it."

"So maybe…"

"No wait," Greg interrupted. "She didn't just say solve, she said stop. She said I was going to stop it all."

Greg stood up and began pacing the room. His conversation with Ashley had kept him up all day and night. There was no making sense of it and yet, even now, he couldn't let it go.

"Listen," Sara said, standing as she spoke, "I don't know why she's doing this. Maybe she got bored or thought there would be some type of reward or something. And I don't know how she found out what she knows about you. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that now that you know who she is you don't have to waste any more time on this."

"I guess…"

"No," Sara said quickly. "Don't guess. Do it. Just drop it Greg. Next time she approaches you just keep going."

"She's not violent Sara."

"You don't know that."

It was his turn to look at her disbelievingly.

"And you can't trust everybody," Sara went on, ignoring his look.

"I don't," he shot back, growing defensive. "Is that why you came over? To lecture me like I'm some third grader walking home from school alone for the first time. I know all about stranger-danger Sara."

"I was worried Greg," Sara returned evenly, "I came over because I was worried."

Greg went from angry to shocked in a split second. Shocked and borderline pleased despite the situation.

"I'm not trying to lecture you. I'm not," Sara continued. "And I don't mean to imply you can't take care of yourself or that you don't know what you're doing. But I've worked with people like this longer than you have and there is something not right about this woman. You have to just take my word for it. Actually no, you don't. Ask Brass. He knew it too. She's trouble. Trouble like you don't need."

Greg nodded, acknowledging the truth of what she'd said, but still unable to shake his own gut feeling.

"Listen," Sara said checking her watch, "I've got to get back to work. Keep the file, look it over and think about what I've said."

"I will," Greg replied as he walked her to the door.

"And keep your phone with you please," she said with a smile as she pulled the door open.

"Sara," he said, stopping the door with his hand and her with his tone. Standing a little closer to her then he knew he needed to be. "You don't have to worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"I know," she agreed, not stepping away.

"Good. So goodnight or morning I guess."

Sara smiled at him again saying a quick goodbye before moving away. Greg watched her walk down the steps and out towards her car before finally shutting the door.

He knew what Sara was getting at. All signs pointed to Ashley being trouble, in the worst way, but still. He couldn't get over the look she had in her eyes.

It was the hollow, empty look he'd seen once before of a person with a secret. A secret so bad, so terrifying that they had to tell someone or else risk being consumed by it.

And despite every assurance he'd just given Sara, Greg knew he couldn't just walk away from it now.

This woman needed help and she'd reached out to him. He might be a fool for believing her, or for even trying, but it wasn't in his nature to just turn his back on someone in need.

Ashley might be trouble, but right now it just seemed like trouble was what she was in.


	5. Choices

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** I feel obligated to say that a canon character is about to die. If you wish to stop reading, please do. You've been warned.

"_Life is the sum of all your choices."_

_**Albert Camus**_

**Chapter 5: Choices**

For several days after their talk, things between Greg and Sara could best be described as cordial. They still talked to one another, but not any more than was strictly necessary for the job. There was no animosity in either of their tones, but the usual easy going friendliness was also gone. They did their jobs with as little interaction as possible and it was killing her.

Sara wanted to put things right between them, but didn't know where to begin. She would have honestly preferred open hostility from him to this pretend politeness. She knew he was angry at how she'd treated him, but wished he could just be straightforward with her about it. Instead he was completely cutting her off and out of his life.

On reflection she realized that she should have probably approached him differently about the whole situation, but what else could she have done? He was her friend; she'd been worried and reacted first without thinking. Sara knew that she was sometimes too blunt with people, but she couldn't help it. It was how she was; a part of her.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, Sara practically dragged Greg with her on a dinner break to clear the air.

If approaching him the way she did the first time was a mistake, this tactic was a disaster.

They had a huge fight. Sara really had meant to apologize about how she'd acted but Greg wouldn't even give her the chance. He'd assumed that she was taking him out to berate him again and hardly let her get a word in. When she did finally get a chance to speak she was so mad that everything that did come out of her mouth just made matters worse.

The meal had ended with Greg leaving abruptly telling her to stay out of his business.

The rest of that night she'd spent avoiding him, which turned out to be surprisingly easy. She couldn't understand why he was acting the way he was. He hardly knew this girl and yet he was seemingly willing to throw away their friendship over her. That he was ready to believe and trust a perfect stranger more than he trusted her. It was so infuriating. So disappointing.

She'd thought she meant more to him than that.

And that was the real problem. Sara had thought she meant more to him but must have been wrong. Greg obviously didn't hold her with the same esteem as she did him.

It hadn't been an easy night to get through and that day was worse. She hardly slept and hardly knew why. Nevertheless, when she arrived at work that night she was determined to act like everything was fine. Sara wasn't about to let him know how much she was hurt.

But he didn't show.

At first she thought maybe he was just running late. Traffic was horrible all the time in Vegas and it wasn't unheard of for one of them, usually Greg, to get caught up in it. However, when Grissom started the meeting and Warrick interrupted to ask if they were waiting on Greg, he said there wasn't a need to and left it at that.

After the meeting Sara cornered Grissom and asked point blank where Greg was. To her surprise he wouldn't say. All Grissom would tell her was that Greg would be back on Monday.

That failing, she tried Nick which really wasn't much better. If he knew where Greg was he wasn't telling, at least not her.

Frustrated, Sara spent another night silent and sulky. By the end of it more than half of the techs in the lab were jumping out of her way as she trudged down the hall. Monday was a long time to wait for answers, but as none were forthcoming she'd have to make do until then.

If she thought not seeing Greg for a night was bad, not seeing him for four nights was worse.

It didn't seem like it ever would, but eventually Monday came. Sara arrived at the lab a good hour before the grave yard shift was to start and found herself prowling the corridor between the locker room and the break room.

Twenty minutes before shift change, Greg showed up.

Sara, who had been sitting in the break room at the time, saw him pass and instantly got to her feet and followed him down the hall.

Every step she took made her angrier and angrier, without reason. Sara knew she had no right to feel that way, but couldn't stop herself. How dare he leave like that without any explanation. How dare he treat her the way he had. He had no regard for her feelings or her friendship and she was fed up with men like that.

Sara fully intended to tell him off about it. Loudly, not caring who was around or what they might think. She'd had it. Completely had it this time. But as she opened the door to the locker room the reproachful words died in her throat never finding escape.

Greg was just sitting there with his head in his hands, unmoving.

He looked so dejected, so worn out and older, much older, than she'd ever seen him before.

The door behind her slipped shut and he looked up and over at the sudden noise. Getting to his feet he hastily opened his locker and said a feeble hello.

"You okay?" she asked, all her anger completely done away.

Greg just shook his head and sat back down, letting out a stifled laugh.

"I probably should have taken another night."

Sara said nothing, just waited for him to continue as she knew he would.

"Listen," he began, "I'm really sorry about how I acted the other night. I'd just gotten…I'd just found out…"

He trailed off for a moment, stopping to clear his throat before continuing.

"My grandfather died."

"Papa Olaf?" Sara asked, sounding shocked.

"Yeah," Greg nodded, looking down. "He'd been getting…it's been coming on for some time. I mean, he was in his eighties. That's where I was. His funeral."

Greg stopped abruptly.

"I was just upset and shouldn't have taken it out on you. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Sara said immediately. "It's not important."

And it wasn't anymore. Not after seeing him so affected.

Greg nodded weakly but still wasn't looking her way.

"You know," he said after a moment's pause, "I think I am going to take another night off. Could you tell Grissom for me?"

"You're going home?"

"Yeah," he said with a short nod.

"Okay," she returned, "but let me drive. You don't look like you're up to it."

"Thanks Sara, but I'll be fine."

"No really…"

"You'll be late for work."

"I'm not even on tonight," she admitted. "I only came in because I wanted to talk to you."

Greg met and held her gaze.

"Really?"

"Yes really."

"Wow," he said, finally cracking a small smile. "I must have really pissed you off."

"Really," she said, smiling herself, "but I'm over it."

"You shouldn't be. I was being an ass."

"You can't help it."

Greg smiled again and nodded his head.

"So," Sara said after a pause, "where were…"

But she didn't get the chance to finish as Brass banged his way through the door.

"Sanders," he called out loudly. "Good, you're here. Your girlfriend's back talking nonsense again. Won't leave until she talks with you."

"My what?" Greg asked, completely surprised.

Sara was too, only letting it briefly flicker across her features.

"Ashley Baker," Brass answered dryly. "Says she has to see you now and that she knows you're here. Should we be looking into a restraining order on this woman? She's not following you around still, is she?"

"No," Greg said with a shake of his head, looking down. "She's harmless. Where is she now?"

"Down in the interview room. Want me to go in with you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Brass smiled briefly and nodded before turning to go.

"Don't take too long getting there," he called out before going.

A heavy tension settled upon them, one that hadn't been there before.

"She's not, is she?" Sara finally had to ask.

"Following me?" Greg predicted. "No. She's not."

"So you haven't seen her again," Sara continued on, as they both headed towards the door.

"I didn't say that."

Sara nodded and realized she didn't want to know any more. She accompanied him down the hall and towards the main integration room not knowing what else to say.

"Why don't you come inside with me," Greg asked as they stopped outside the door.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Sara freely admitted. She really wasn't sure what she'd end up saying at this point.

"I'd like you to. If you know… if you wanted to."

Sara stopped and considered it before finally nodding in agreement.

She had to see for herself.

* * *

Greg sat across from Ashley, Sara to his left, and tried to make sense of the situation.

Prior to leaving town Greg had managed to run into Ashley several times. Each time it had been just as unexpected, Ashley really did just seem to turn up. Once it was while he was out running. Another time it was back at the grocery store. It was odd but he didn't question it.

They'd talked some more but she really didn't have anything new to say. She seemed to be getting increasingly agitated each time he saw her. Greg didn't know what to think of it. She kept insisting that he could solve it, that he could stop a murder, but she wouldn't say more, wouldn't help more.

And he tried every line of questioning he could think of, but it was always the same. Ashley just kept repeating the same bits of information without telling him how she came upon them or what they meant. Greg doubted she knew herself, but he had to keep trying. It seemed so important to her, and whether or not he could admit it, it was becoming important to him.

Tonight however, sitting there, she seemed composed. Much more composed than he'd ever seen her. Almost at ease.

"What can I do for you Ashley?" Greg asked seeing that she wasn't going to speak first.

"I don't have anything new."

"Okay," Greg said easily accepting that as true.

"So why are you here?" Sara asked, her face betraying an unusual amount of emotion.

"I saw on TV tonight that you haven't caught that guy yet," Ashley said, ignoring Sara and looking instead to Greg. "The one from the gas place that killed those people. I'm sorry I'd hoped you'd have some one by now."

"No," Greg affirmed, "we don't. But if you saw the report you saw that we do have him on tape, from another robbery. Do you know anything about it?"

"I told you before I don't. I'm sorry. I wish I did."

"So did you just come here to talk?" Sara tried again.

"Yes actually. I did."

Sara sat back in her chair and glared at her.

"I wanted to offer my condolences," Ashley went on, still fixing her gaze on Greg. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"How did you know?"

Ashley shrugged and looked down at her hands.

"I just did."

Sara leaned forward, looking from Ashley to Greg, uncertain what to think.

"Did you make it back in time?" Ashley asked softly.

"No," Greg found himself answering, without really meaning too.

"I'm sorry for that too."

"It was my choice," Greg said firmly.

"That's what life is all about isn't it," Ashley asked in return, "choices?"

"I don't …" Sara began to say but was quickly interrupted.

"But even with all these choices life gives us, we can't change who we are."

She had both Greg and Sara's full attention now. Neither of them moved, or blinked, or breathed.

"Life offers us choices. Every day. And every day we decide who we're going to be."

Another pause followed. You could hear a pin drop for all the silence that filled the room.

"Do you ever think that if maybe you'd just done one thing differently in your life, just made one different choice, you'd be a different person?"

"It's not that easy," Greg said without realizing.

"Maybe it's not," she agreed. "But maybe…"

* * *

The interview hadn't lasted long. Ashley really didn't seem to have anything to say, but neither Sara nor Greg could stop thinking about it all.

Once she was gone they continued to sit in the room for some time.

Finally, Sara had to ask.

"How did she know about your grandfather dying?"

"I don't know," Greg answered honestly. "She just did."

"So, what? Do you think she's psychic?"

Greg shrugged. He wasn't sure. He didn't know what to think about anything right now.

"Psychic. Empathic. Clairvoyant. Maybe she's just a good researcher," Greg suggested. "I don't know. But she did. She knew."

Sara nodded slowly as Greg got to his feet.

"You ready to go home?" she asked, still meaning to drive him if he'd let her.

"No," he said with a small shake of his head. "I think I'll just get to work. Push through, you know."

Sara nodded. She knew very well.

"If you're sure," was all she said though she wanted to say more.

"I am," he returned.

It was one of those choices he just had to make.


	6. Beginning

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_In my end is my beginning."_

_**T.S. Eliot**_

**Chapter 6: Beginning**

It happened again. Fifteen minutes before shift change there was a call about a DB on the strip.

Greg literally groaned at the news, he was that exhausted. From the time he'd left Las Vegas for Los Angeles to attend his grandfather's funeral five days ago until now he'd probably gotten about sixteen hours sleep. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't even stopped by his place yet, just drove straight to the lab last night. He really should have just gone home and taken another day off like Sara had suggested, but it was too late for that now.

Seeing the exhaustion on his face Warrick offered to accompany him, knowing that the two of them would clear the scene faster than if Greg just went solo. As a testament to how tired he really was, Greg didn't even argue, just thanked him as they got ready to go. Normally he'd of jumped at the opportunity to work solo, today he just didn't have it in him.

And traffic was horrendous. Morning traffic always was, but for some reason it just seemed a hundred times worse. There were at least three accidents on the 95, which in turn backed up the 15, and of course that was just about where they needed to be.

Sighing as they finally pulled up to Circus Circus, Greg got out of the SUV, dragging his case along with him.

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one who got suckered into this," Sofia said with a lopsided grin as she made her way over to the two of them.

Warrick grinned back at her before asking for the details.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but it looks like a suicide," she explained as the three of them headed towards the scene.

Greg followed just behind them, taking in the details while he looked about.

There were several local news stations already present, sending out live reports and a small crowd of onlookers. A few cops were taking down witness's names and information and Greg just caught a woman saying something about thinking it was a stunt. "Like a performance piece," was her exact quote. The man beside her noting that "she didn't make a sound."

"Covered her up because of the cameras," Sofia continued, coming to a stop just outside of the police tape. "No ID on her, my third Jane Doe of the week, but we think we've found her car. It was still running at the top of the garage, right up against the wall. It may have something in it that can tell us who she is."

"You want the car or the body?" Warrick asked him, taking Greg by surprise.

"Car," Greg said firmly.

Warrick nodded and Sofia asked another cop to show him the way. As he was going, he heard her continue on to Warrick like before about how they thought it was a suicide, but…

But whatever it was, Greg didn't catch it all. They'd moved out of earshot and after a quick walk up five flights of steps were at the secondary scene.

The officer told Greg that the only thing they'd done was turn it off and they had only done that after Detective Curtis okayed it.

"So the door was open?" Greg asked, indicating the driver's side.

"Yeah," he nodded, "just like it is now."

Greg thanked him and snapped a few pictures of the car before walking past it to the ledge. Looking down he could see Sofia and Warrick standing over the body. From here it was hard to tell anything about her, other than the fact that she was Caucasian and a brunette. That and, hopefully from this height, she'd died on impact.

Not wasting any more time, Greg turned his attention back to the car.

There was no purse, no wallet, and no ID that he could find anywhere in it. The only thing there seemed to be was Post-it notes. Lots and lots of Post-it notes.

The notes, all standard yellow, were stuck all over both visors, several littered the passenger's seat, a few were stuck to the dash, and one lone Post-it was left on the steering wheel.

Taking a few more pictures, Greg leaned in closer to examine it.

All it said was 'SORRY'.

He frowned; the whole thing was leaving him feeling queasy. Someone had just died and it was his job to be clinical and detached, yet having just come from a funeral it was harder than normal to do. Greg was beginning to think he needed more than just another day off.

Greg shoved those thoughts as far as possible to the back of his mind and set to work. Deciding to be thorough, he bagged all the Post-it's, and as much of the car's content that looked significant, including an access pass to the Rio's employee parking garage. Everything else was trash; gum wrappers, a spare jacket, even an empty bottle of hair dye. People kept odd things in their cars.

Finishing up, he gave instructions for impounding the car and made his way back down to Warrick. David was with him and Greg was a bit shocked to see that not much had been accomplished. The body was still in its original position.

"Greg," Warrick called out, bridging the gap between them with three easy strides. "Did you find anything that could identify the body?"

"No," Greg answered, shaking his head, "not a thing. Although she may have worked at the Rio. Got at an employee parking pass."

Warrick nodded, biting his lip as he did so.

"Still look like a suicide?"

Warrick shrugged causing Greg to question him with his eyes.

"Witnesses all seem to think so," Warrick continued.

"If it helps, she left a note. Several actually."

"Really?" Warrick asked, perking up a bit.

"Yeah, on a Post-it. Short and to the point. 'Sorry'. That was it. Why? What's the problem?"

"Check it out," Warrick said, turning and indicating for Greg to follow.

Greg walked over to the body with Warrick and immediately saw what the problem was. Her hands were tied.

The woman, face down before them and wearing a navy dress, had her hands bound at the wrists with a black scarf.

"Why would she tie her wrists together?" Greg asked out loud to no one in particular.

Warrick shrugged, clearly as confused as he was about it.

"There's that," Warrick went on as he moved around the body and kneeled down near her face, once more motioning for Greg to follow. "And there's this. See that around her hair line, at the ear? It's dye. She must have just dyed it not long before she jumped."

Warrick turned his attention back to Greg and registered the shock in his eyes.

"You okay?"

Greg didn't answer, just continued to stare into the woman's lifeless eyes.

"Greg?"

Standing quickly, Greg moved back several paces before turning away altogether and running a hand quickly through his hair.

"Greg?" Warrick asked again, joining him at his side.

"That's Ashley Baker," he said, pointing needlessly to the woman on the ground before turning away once again. "That's Ashley."

* * *

There had been no way that Warrick, after seeing Greg's reaction, was about to let him step anywhere near the autopsy room on this case. Actually, he hadn't wanted him any where near the case, but had no other choice. There was no one else available and they had to clear this quick.

It probably was a suicide; Warrick, Greg and Sofia had pretty much agreed on that. But it was still suspicious. And suspicious was never good.

So while Warrick accompanied the body to Doc Robbins' place, Sofia and Greg tracked down Ashley Baker's address through the DMV and went to her apartment.

The entire ride over Greg had been silent. He knew it was shock, shock and fatigue, that was making this whole experience feel dreamlike. It just didn't feel like it was really happening. But it was. Undoubtedly it was.

"Are you okay?" Sofia asked as she stopped the car in front of the tiny two-story complex on the East side of town.

"Let's just get this over with," Greg said instead of answering.

Having called ahead, the apartment manager was waiting for them at the foot of the steps.

"Shame about that girl," he muttered as he walked up with them to her door. "She was always a bit odd, but paid her rent on time. Never had a complaint against her in the three years she's been here. She really jumped?"

"We're still looking into it," Sofia replied.

"Saw it on the news this morning, but it never thought it would be someone I knew."

Sofia nodded and waited to be let inside. Greg found it was easier to just stay silent.

"Just lock it before you go," the manager said as he held the door open. "Should I do something? Call her family or someone to come get her things?"

"No, we'll take care of that," Sofia confirmed. "Thank you."

The man nodded once more before leaving them alone in the smallest apartment Greg had ever seen. It was also the sparsest. There was barely any furniture and no pictures on any of the walls. Just a brown loveseat that looked secondhand and a few stools at the breakfast counter that must double as a table.

"Where should we start?" Greg asked. This was all new to him. Never mind that he knew Ashley and it felt as if he was invading her privacy, but he'd never investigated an alleged suicide before.

"Well," Sofia said letting out a sigh, "it doesn't look like if there was any foul play it took place here. Place is clean, but looks lived in."

Greg nodded, knowing what she meant. It was clean, but not to the point where it looked as if something was being covered up. He'd seen that before. Illusion rooms he called them, because they gave the illusion that things were alright. This was different. He could easily picture Ashley leaving it this way. Living this way.

Well…

"Let's check the bedroom," Sofia suggested after Greg snapped a few pictures just for the record. "She may have a date book, computer, something that might tell us if anything was wrong in her life."

Greg nodded, looking down and once more feeling uneasy. Of course there was something wrong in her life. She'd been doing everything she could to try and tell him. He just hadn't understood.

Sofia gasped as she entered the room instantly bringing Greg back round to reality.

"What?" he called out loudly, just a few steps behind her but not asking more. Coming around the corner he saw what it was for himself.

The bedroom, although messy, was obviously not a crime scene. At least, it wasn't the type of crime scene they'd been looking for.

The bed was unmade, the dresser was cluttered with knickknacks and frames, the closet door was open with clothes strewn about and the desk, the desk was like a shrine.

Pictures, newspaper articles, Post-it notes, internet print-outs and even a stray cable bill were pinned to a massive bulletin board just beside a still-running computer. And every bit of it, every scrap, had to do with Greg.

"This…" Greg started to say, but couldn't finish. He didn't know how.

Sofia silently shook her head in agreement, or in disbelief. It was hard to tell which.

Finally, snapping out of it, Greg began to take pictures of it all. Sofia seemed to come back to herself as well as she began to look over the contents of the board.

"When did you get published?" she unknowingly asked out loud.

"Five years ago," Greg said taking a quick peek at the paper she'd indicated, the one pinned just behind a rather large photo taken from the Daily News of him at a particularly high profile scene. He remembered it quite clearly because Nick and Warrick had given him such a hard time about it, jokingly of course. It was the first and only time he'd ever had his picture in the paper.

"How did she get all this?" Sofia questioned, still sounding shocked.

"I'd rather know why she did it than how," Greg answered, taking a few more pictures of the leftover Post-its and the Sharpie she'd used to write with.

"Did you know?" she asked, still unable to take her eyes off the massive amount of information Ashley had amassed.

"About this?" Greg returned. "How could I? How does anyone know that something like this…"

Again he trailed off, this time feeling stupid.

Sara had known. She'd told him herself that Ashley was trouble. With this much evidence staring him in the face, it was hard to disagree with that now.

But he'd believed her.

He'd believed Ashley and this is what he got in return, a violation of his privacy. There wasn't a single bit of information she hadn't found out. His life was on that board. Everything from a print out about the lab explosion to an invitation to his ten year high school reunion. There was even a clipping about Papa Olaf's funeral.

Man, he was a fool.

But what could she have been after?

Greg had no money to speak of. He had no real influence. If this had been a con, what was she trying to gain?

It just didn't add up.

None of this added up.


	7. Collide

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** I must take a moment and thank the lovely and talented Tripp3235 and RivenSky who are always kind to me and to my writing. Even when it sucks. Also note that I take great liberties with Greg's character and background, but since the show won't give him one on the show, I will!

"_Even the best fall down sometimes  
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme  
Out of the doubt that fills my mind  
I somehow find  
You and I collide"_

**_Howie Day 'Collide' _**

**Chapter 7: Collide**

Some time after one in the afternoon, just as Greg's head nearly hit the table for the third time, Sofia decided it was time to for everyone to go home.

Greg hadn't wanted to, tried protesting that he was perfectly capable of continuing on with the investigation, but was quickly overruled. They all needed a break, not just him, and they could continue when shift started again that night.

Knowing that it was pointless to argue with Sofia and Warrick, Greg was resigned although not happily. There was still too much to do. They hadn't even found a next of kin for Ashley Baker yet, let alone tracked down an employer. All that had been accomplished so far was the inventory of her possessions, from both her car and what seemed relevant from her apartment, and the autopsy.

As expected, the cause of death was already evident. No one takes a fall like that without it being the cause of death, but still Doc Robbins had done a tox screen. A tox screen would at least show she'd been drugged or poisoned or in some way medically coerced. And that was what had Greg so on edge. If it came back negative, he knew that the investigation would likely be closed and ruled suicide and then he'd never know.

That's what was killing him now; he might never know. And he needed to.

Greg felt obligated to understand why this had happened.

But Sofia was right; he couldn't go on any longer. Suicide or not, it was extremely unlikely that Grissom would let him continue on the case when the time came around. If Greg wanted answers he knew that he was going to eventually have to find them himself or pry them from whoever did get the case.

It was a short ride home from the lab. Short and scary as Greg remembered none of it. He didn't bother undressing, just kicked off his shoes, lay on the bed and was snoring within moments.

Greg was startled from his sleep by a series of loud, sharp knocks coming from the front door. Not that his rest had done any good. It was the kind of sleep you have when you are tired past the point of dreaming, the kind where you wake up more exhausted than when you first laid down. But at least he'd slept.

Checking the clock, disturbed to see it was later than he'd imagined and already dark, he moved slowly towards the sound.

He wasn't surprised to see Sara. He'd been almost expecting her earlier at the lab, had been certain she'd be there at the first sign of anything deemed trouble concerning Ashley.

Greg thought he could already see the disapproval in her eyes, but was mistaken. He wasn't surprised, but she was at his appearance. Sara had never seen him look so bad before.

"It's a little early for an 'I told you so', isn't it?" he asked instead of saying hello, just walking away from the door and sitting down, allowing her to follow.

"That's not why I'm here," Sara said, sounding one part confused and one part surprised.

"I'm sorry," he offered, having caught the look of hurt in her eyes, however brief. "I just…it's been a really long week, you know? And you were right. About all of it. I should have never gotten involved in the first place."

"It's not your fault," Sara said, sitting down beside him.

"Isn't it?" he asked, turning to her. "I should have seen that she was depressed or something."

"You didn't know her, Greg. How would you know something like that?"

"But you did," he countered earnestly.

"No," she returned. "Not this. I never imagined anything like this would happen. Greg, I was worried for you, not for her. I didn't…"

"You were worried for me?" he interrupted to ask, causing her a brief stutter.

"I told you I was," she answered, not able to quite look him in the eye.

"I thought all that talk was about the job," Greg said, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. "That you were worried I'd mess up my job or something. I didn't think you meant me."

"Why not?" she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer but daring it anyway.

"I don't know," Greg answered, his voice closer to normal. "I mean, we're friends I guess."

"You guess?" Sara shot back, sounding offended.

"Not guess," Greg stammered back at her. "Well, I've always thought we were, but it's hard to tell with you sometimes; what you think."

Sara half-smiled, admitting the truth of that.

They sat in a heavy silence, neither knowing exactly what to say next or how to continue. Finally, taking a deep breath, Sara had to say it; had to say something.

"Listen," Sara began, "this last week I've been doing a lot of thinking about…"

She was about to say 'us' when the phone rang cutting her off. They both sat there, not moving.

"I should get that," Greg said after the third ring, looking at her intently but not moving.

"Yeah," she replied a bit too brightly. Relieved to be stalled this way; uncertain now if actually finishing that sentence would have been a good thing.

Greg made his way to the phone, picking it up and looking once more to Sara as he said 'hello' into it.

Sara looked away, not wanting to appear as if she was eavesdropping but couldn't help but hear anyway.

"The drive back was fine," he said now, but his tone had changed.

It didn't sound like the Greg she knew talking. He sounded, if anything, bitter.

"About what?" he asked, turning his back and walking towards the kitchen.

Sara stood and moved to the far side of the room on the pretense of looking at his bookshelf.

"Well, Anne, I'm sorry…" Greg stopped talking and Sara could just hear the sound of the other person carrying on like an angry buzz.

"Are you still on about that?" Greg asked unbelievably, moving from the kitchen to his bedroom with a few fast steps.

After that Sara could hear no more, but had heard enough to wonder what it was about. She couldn't help but wonder. She thought Anne might be his sister. She knew he had one, an older one, but now the name escaped her. It wasn't like Greg ever talked much about his family, aside from Papa Olaf, but once or twice he'd mentioned her.

Looking over the bookshelf now with more interest, Sara smiled at the odd collection he'd amassed. Everything from chemistry to science-fiction was lined up neatly before her, alphabetized even.

One book in particular caught her eye as it looked both older than all the rest and had been placed in front of the others at eye level, as if Greg had just got it.

Picking it up she could see right away it was foreign and even though she couldn't read it, realized it was probably Norwegian.

Sara was about to flip it open when Greg came back into the room holding the phone, conversation over.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable," Greg joked as he put the phone back into place.

"Sorry," Sara said, somewhat embarrassed to have been caught rifling through his things.

Greg just shook his head, it wasn't important, as he gently took the book from her hands.

"Do you mind me asking?" she said, indicating the book.

"Family Bible," he answered with a nod, "and actually what Anne was calling about."

Sighing, he placed the book back onto the shelf before sitting down again.

"She's pitching a fit because I have it."

"Why?" Sara asked, joining him once more on the couch.

"Oh man, the reasons are endless. Everything from 'I had no right' to 'she's the oldest'. The oldest and the one with a family. And a career, like I'm working a hobby or something. Man she knows how to push my buttons. She just kept going on and on about how it wasn't fair that I got left all the money and the family heirlooms. Like I wrote the will."

"Your grandfather left you everything?"

"Yeah," Greg said, stopping momentarily from his rant and fixing her with a playful gaze. "What? I'm cuter now that I have money?"

Sara just looked at him with her mouth slightly open, unable to respond.

"I'm joking," he laughed. "Besides, it's not really all that much. Papa Olaf was pretty sick towards the end. Lots of hospital bills. Plus the funeral. She wasn't asking about her fair share of that of course. His lawyer said once all the accounts have been squared away, it'll be maybe ten to twenty thousand."

Sara nodded, not sure if it would be impolite to ask more but curiosity got the best of her in the end.

"What about your parents? Aren't they handling any of this?"

"My parents are useless and probably just as mad as Anne is, if not more. They hardly spoke to me when I was there; I didn't even stay with them. But, we never really got along. They always expected more from me than I could give."

Greg just shrugged his shoulders at that and gave her half a smile.

He was about to ask her what she'd been trying to say before they were interrupted when they were interrupted again by the phone.

"If that's Anne…" Greg said, getting up and leaving the statement unfinished. But he'd said it with more humor than before, causing Sara to smile.

He wasn't on long and Sara knew it couldn't have been Anne. Greg hardly said two words before hanging up and rubbing his eyes vigorously with his hands.

"It can't be more bad news," she offered.

"Don't know," Greg said with his hands still covering his eyes, "but it didn't sound good. Grissom wants to see me. Now. And he doesn't sound happy."

Sara was on the verge of saying 'when does he' but stopped as she caught Greg grinning at her like he could read her mind.

"I know," he said with a nod, "I know."

Sara laughed.

"I should probably let you get ready," she said, standing to take her leave.

"Yeah," he agreed, walking with her to the front door. "If I take longer than half an hour he'll come unglued. Well, as unglued as he gets. Probably say my name in that tone."

Sara nodded, still smiling and unmoving from the doorway.

"But," Greg went on, leaning against the doorframe, "if you had something to talk to me about I could risk it. You were fixing to tell me something before…"

"No," Sara said very suddenly, "it's fine. We can talk later."

"Are you sure?"

Sara just smiled tightly and nodded.

"When?" he asked, catching her off guard.

"Um," she said, looking down and thinking of a way to stall.

She wasn't sure what she'd been ready to say at that moment, but now that it passed she wasn't sure if saying anything would be right. And she knew Greg well enough to know that he wasn't about to drop it. Or forget. Not for one moment.

"How about we go to breakfast tomorrow?" he asked her. "After shift? I'd say dinner now, but you know…Grissom's waiting."

"Okay," she nodded; thankful she'd have a whole night to think up something to say. "Sounds good."

"So it's a d…."

"Date," Sara jumped in and then immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut at the surprise that registered on Greg's face.

He'd been about to say 'deal'.

"Not a 'date' date," Sara tried back peddling, completely humiliated and asking herself why she was like this with men.

"No, a date is fine," Greg said eagerly, talking over her.

"I just don't want…"

"Don't want what?"

"I…I don't know what I want," Sara admitted.

Greg nodded slowly, refusing to give in to the budding optimism that was building in his chest, but unable to keep the small smirk off his face either.

"Well maybe we can talk about that," he suggested.

Sara let out a breath and nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Okay," Greg said rather cheerfully. "So tomorrow it is."

"Okay," she smiled back at him, also trying to rid herself of the sudden rush of butterflies in the stomach. "I'll see you then. Well, then and tonight. At the lab. Before then."

"Good."

Sara didn't say any more, just took a few steps back, still smiling before heading towards her car.

Greg watched until she got in and drove off, unable to wipe the grin off his face despite himself; tonight having been the one bright spot in an otherwise dark week.


	8. Instinct

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks to Tripp3235 and Rivensky for all the help and to everyone for being so patient with me. Hopefully this will speed up soon.

"_Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason."_

_**Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

**Chapter 8: Instinct**

"You wanted to see me?" Greg asked tentatively as he poked his head into Grissom's office.

Grissom, on the phone, just nodded and waved him inside.

Taking a seat, Greg did his best to seem disinterested in the conversation Grissom was having, but not really succeeding. It was obviously about Ashley Baker and it sounded as if Ecklie was on the other end.

After a few tense minutes Grissom finally hung the phone up and turned his attention to Greg.

"You don't look good."

Greg, perplexed by this unusual beginning, shifted uneasily in his chair.

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you certain you don't need a few more days off?" Grissom asked, quite sincerely. "I know you've been through a lot this week and if you did need some more time…"

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Greg said, more curtly than intended.

Grissom nodded as if considering it.

"Is that all I'm here for?" Greg asked, knowing it couldn't be that simple. "To make sure I'm okay?"

"No," Grissom conceded. "That was Ecklie. He's concerned that we're wasting resources on certain cases that should already be considered closed."

"Ashley Baker?"

Grissom nodded again.

"The tox screen came in this afternoon…."

"And?"

"And," Grissom continued, "there was Valium in her system."

"So that could mean that someone drugged her to make her complacent."

"Or she self-medicated to make it easier to follow through."

Greg nodded, conceding the point. It was one of those vague areas they'd never know for certain. Unless, of course, someone was caught or confessed.

"Ecklie," Grissom went on, "doesn't think a tox screen should have been performed at all. I disagree with him on that and stand by yours and Warrick's decision to order one. It's important to investigate all avenues, especially considering the circumstances. However, this case is going to be closed. Al is ruling it a suicide and the investigation is officially over."

Greg didn't say anything. He'd expected as much but was disappointed. To him it just felt like there was more to it. Or maybe he just wanted to believe that to ease his own conscience.

"That's it then," he said flatly.

"Yes," Grissom nodded. "Next of kin has been notified and has identified the body. Once the paperwork has been processed her personal affects will be released as well."

"So all the evidence…"

"Personal effects, Greg," Grissom corrected. "This was a suicide. There is no evidence."

"But everything she told me, all of that was just, what?"

"A cry for help."

"I'm responsible for this. I should have…"

"No," Grissom quickly corrected. "Greg, this would have happened whether or not Ashley Baker had ever crossed paths with you. You couldn't stop this."

"I could have gotten her help."

"Did you suspect she was suicidal?"

Greg paused. That was the question he'd been asking himself since this morning.

"No," he answered truthfully. "But I still feel responsible."

Grissom nodded slowly, knowing there was nothing he could say to change his mind.

"Why don't you take tonight off," Grissom suggested. "Get some rest. Come back tomorrow night."

"If it's all the same I'd really rather just stay. I think the less free time I have to think about this the better."

Grissom nodded, not really agreeing but understanding his point.

With nothing more to say, Greg headed out the door and down towards the break room, stopping when he heard Doc Robbins calling out his name.

"Slow night?" Greg asked, unaccustomed to seeing Doc outside the morgue.

"Don't know yet," he answered, gently steering Greg towards an empty layout room, "I haven't been in. I'm not on for a few hours and I thought I'd stop by and talk with you."

Greg sighed as Doc shut the door behind him, wondering if everyone was going to be treating him with kid gloves tonight.

"Warrick sat in on the autopsy this morning," Doc went on, ignoring Greg's exasperated look, "said you knew this girl. He also told me about the circumstances surrounding her death."

Greg nodded, not knowing where this was headed, but too polite to interrupt. Doc obviously had something to say, it was best to just get it over with.

"I've worked a lot of cases," Doc continued, growing much more serious than before. "More than I care to tell you. I've probably been doing this job longer than you've been alive. So when I say that there are some cases you'll never forget, I'm sure you'll take me at my word."

Greg nodded, curious as to where this was headed.

"After telling me the details, I asked Warrick if I could see the photos from the scene." He said pulling open the folder he'd had with him. "It had sounded familiar. Very familiar. Almost like a ghost from one of those cases I couldn't forget. But until I saw for myself, I didn't believe it."

Doc then laid out a photo that Greg knew well. It was Ashley, arms over head and tied just as she'd been this morning.

"Now, I stand by my report. This girl this morning, that was a suicide."

"Okay," Greg said, mostly because he felt he had too.

"But these girls, they were murdered."

Doc than laid out three other pictures. Three other girls. Each, judging by the photo, having fallen from some height. Each, easily seen, with their arms tied by black scarves.

"This is the one I worked," Doc said, indicating the first girl. "She was never identified, just another Jane Doe. She was also the first one found. Hands bound in front, just like the girl this morning."

"But this was a murder," Greg half-asked, half-stated.

"Yes," Doc confirmed. "This was. But there were other circumstances. No witnesses. No note. Other physical evidence."

"Like?"

"Signs of struggle," Doc explained, not annoyed to be questioned. Not in the least. He took inquisitiveness as a sign of a good investigator. "Skin under her nails; plus, these three had all been sexually assaulted."

Greg got it. They'd found none of that with Ashley.

"So, there was no DNA match?" Greg asked, already thinking about looking up the cases and rechecking it himself.

Doc laughed and shook his head.

"Greg," he said, kind of amused, "this was over twenty years ago. Most we could do was get a blood type off of the semen. A positive, before you ask. Rather popular and unfortunate."

"Twenty years ago?" Greg asked back.

"Sorry if that's disappointing," he returned with a nod, "I know you were hoping for better."

"But these cases are open," Greg continued. "These weren't solved. Maybe it is the same guy…"

"I don't think so," Doc said, shaking his head for added affect.

"But it could…"

"My opinion is that whoever did these first three murders is likely dead or in jail. The monsters that commit these acts don't just stop without a reason. Ms. Baker's death, her suicide, is just an unfortunate coincidence."

"So why tell me at all?" Greg asked, perplexed at all of this new information.

"Because," he said simply, "I could be wrong."

* * *

"I've been trying to get you alone all night," Greg said upon entering the locker room and finally finding Sara. Half the night had been wasted in near misses with her.

Sara, stunned, couldn't respond. It was the way he said it. She was never quite sure if Greg just spoke in that tone, the one that suggested he meant more than he said in more ways than he said it, or if it was just the natural way he talked. He sounded like he might just save her the trouble of having to talk about whatever it was going on between them and take matters into his own hands. Literally. And hearing that, the way she did, she might let him, if they had been alone like he assumed.

But they weren't.

"Why don't I just leave and let you two get down to business," Catherine practically purred as she shut her locker door.

Greg either didn't care how it had sounded, or once again, didn't realize. He just smiled and waved goodbye to Catherine as she made her way out the door.

Sara on the other hand, couldn't even make eye contact with the other woman. She was quite certain she'd never hear the end of this.

"Is this a bad time?" Greg asked, perplexed by Sara's mixed reaction.

"No," she said with a small, tight smile and a brisk shake of her head. "What's going on?"

"It's about Ashley," he started.

Sara quickly shut her locker and tried not to look too disappointed. All in all, she should have guessed.

"I thought her case was closed?"

"It was…" Greg confirmed, fixing her with a curious stare. "Are you sure this isn't a bad time? You look…"

"I'm fine," she said, quickly cutting him off. "What have you got?"

"Okay," he started again, just as eager as before. "Doc Robbins came by before shift started. Gave me some info on three cases where the women died similar deaths as Ashley."

"Suicides?" Sara asked as they left the locker room and headed down the hall.

"No," he answered quickly. "These were murders."

"So how can they be related?"

"I'm getting to that," Greg said, starting to sound exasperated by her doubts. "These other three women all had their hands bound and all were pushed off of high spots."

"Hotels?"

"No."

"Parking garages?"

"No," Greg said, trying to shake off her doubts and his own all at once. "Two from bridges and one from an overpass, but that's not…"

"I still don't see…"

"Because you're not letting me finish," he interrupted.

Sara stopped abruptly and faced him.

Greg waited a minute to make sure she was listening and that she wasn't too angry. He knew why she was so reluctant to hear him out. Sara, like everyone else, just wanted him to drop it and move on. But he couldn't.

"Ashley had Valium in her system. Not enough for an overdose, but it was there. Doc even found some pill fragments in her stomach."

"Okay," Sara nodded, mostly to show she was listening.

"These other three victims had Librium in their systems. Not enough to overdose, but enough. And just like Ashley there were pill fragments in their stomachs."

"Alright, so they were drugged and she was on drugs. Librium and Valium aren't the same Greg."

"No, but Librium was the Valium of its day. They both treat the same types of disorders."

"Panic," Sara said with a short nod.

"Exactly," Greg continued. "So twenty years ago it's feasible that someone with a panic disorder would have been prescribed it instead of Valium."

Sara, obviously, still didn't get it.

"I think this is what Ashley wanted. She wanted me to find out who did this."

Sara stopped again, this time taking him by the arm and pulling him into the nearest empty room.

"What?"

"What?" she asked back, astonished. "Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

Greg couldn't respond; just looked at her, clearly confused.

"How old are these other cases?" she asked.

"The last murder was twenty years ago," Greg said evenly.

"Twenty years ago," Sara repeated.

"Yeah but…"

"Greg, she was only twenty-three. How could she know anything about these cases?"

"I don't know but…"

Sara didn't stop him, she didn't have to. He trailed off on his own.

"Listen," he said, "I don't know how she could know anything about this, but she does. She did. I can't explain it Sara, but this just feels right. This feels like I'm on to something."

Sara had nothing to say to that.

"I don't know how Ashley knew half the things she did. I don't know why she picked me. I wish she didn't, but she did. And I feel like I owe it to her to at least look into it. To at least try."

"So what are you thinking," she finally asked, "that the murderer has some type of panic disorder?"

"Or that he has access to this type of medication," Greg elaborated.

"Okay," Sara said nodding and thinking out loud, "that's patients, doctors and veterinarians. And pharmacists. That's a lot of suspects."

"I know," Greg agreed, "like half the city."

"Well, Vegas was smaller twenty years ago."

Greg nodded and smiled, glad to see she was at least humoring him. Holding open the door for her, they both left and continued on down the hall towards the break room.

"Wait," Sara said as they got there, stopping dead in the doorway, "if the other women were pushed off of bridges and the like, why wouldn't she have…."

Sara couldn't finish the sentence. Sometimes it was too awful to think about. And thinking about Ashley Baker, little as she had liked the woman, actually committing suicide to prove a point about other cold cases was one of those things.

"Why the casino," Greg sort of finished for her. "I don't know. Circus Circus is kind of an odd choice. Unless the guy maybe worked there?"

"Or he was a clown?" Sara half jokingly provided.

But it clearly struck a chord with him.

"What?" she asked.

"Ashley said something to me about clowns," he answered, trying hard to remember. "I know she did. Something about animal crackers."

Sara waited, knowing it would come to him eventually.

"At Smith's. She said something about not liking animal crackers. That they were bitter."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Animal crackers," Greg said, as if she should know. "The little boxes are supposed to look like circus trains."

"Alright," Sara said slowly, "so it's a circus thing?"

"Clowns," Greg went on, ignoring her last comment. "She said she didn't like clowns. That she'd never liked them. She'd been waiting there, holding them, like she wanted to make sure I saw."

"Clowns?" Sara repeated, lost as to what he might be thinking. "You really think it has to do with clowns?"

Greg, coming out of his reverie, just shrugged. He really didn't know, but his instincts told him he was headed down the right path.


	9. Disappointment

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks to RivenSky and Tripp3235 for making this possible. :)

"_And she says ooh, it's so hard to love when love was your great disappointment."_

_**Lloyd Cole 'Rattlesnakes'**_

**Chapter 9: Disappointment**

She'd expected him to forget.

It was understandable; he had a lot on his mind. Between his own cases, the Ashley Baker mystery, his grandfather's death, Greg was becoming seriously overburdened.

But, at the end of shift, he found her once again in the locker room and casually reminded her of their date.

It was at that moment Sara realized she hadn't so much expected him to forget, but that she'd really wanted him to.

Not that she was going to back out. No, she'd come too far for that. Sara figured it was best to just get it out there and over with, whatever it was.

But it wasn't that easy. It was never that easy. She didn't know what Greg wanted out of all this, and honestly she didn't know what she wanted either. Talking was a good start, but it seemed like they should be past that.

Sometimes, when she thought it over, she really could see herself being happy with Greg. He was a great guy, plain and simple. He was smart, handsome, kind and caring. And he made her laugh, no one made her laugh the way Greg did. Plus they had a spark between them that she couldn't deny. She knew him well enough to know that he'd never hurt her and that he'd do anything for her. Being with Greg would be easy.

Too easy.

That was the problem. It would be so easy that it would be scary. Nothing had ever come easy for Sara and the idea that love…

Was love supposed to be easy?

All of her first-hand experiences said 'no'. But all of those experiences…

She was over thinking things again. Sara knew it, but couldn't help herself. She was getting way ahead of things. Making plans of action and escape well before she knew what she needed or even what she wanted.

Honestly, the whole thing scared her so much she didn't think she could go through with it. But she smiled her best smile as they headed out the door together. They'd quickly agreed to go someplace a bit more out of the way than their typical breakfast haunt. The diner down the street, while good, was frequented by more than half the lab on any given morning. Normally, that wasn't an issue. Neither of them had anything to hide, but today was different. Today they were going to talk, really talk, and it was best not to do it with an audience.

Taking separate cars they arrived at their destination in no time, were quickly seated, and then proceeded to stare down the menu.

It was awkward.

After ordering and another few minutes of complete silence, Greg finally broke the ice.

"So I guess one of us should say something, right?"

"Yeah, this is…"

"Weird," he provided with a smile.

"Very," she agreed, laughing nervously.

"Listen," he began before she could say more, "I think we both know that things haven't exactly been normal between us. We've been spending a lot of time together, and I'm glad we're friends, but sometimes it feels like more. Like there's been something different happening between us. I think we have something here that could be great, but I'm not trying to push you or anything. And the last thing I want is to ruin our friendship. So if you do or you don't want that, either way, I'm okay with it. It's completely your decision and if you tell me to knock it off, or that you're not interested, I promise I'll never bring it up again. Really."

It was hard for her not to smile at that.

"I sound like an idiot, don't I?" he asked, cracking a smile as well.

"Not completely," Sara answered with a laugh.

"This sounded a lot better in my head."

"It wasn't bad," she said immediately, not wanting to hurt his feelings but still so very amused.

"You don't have to lie," Greg said, but still smiling.

"But it was true," Sara went on. "There is something between us."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she returned, with a short nod.

"So, is that good?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Part of me thinks so."

"Part," Greg repeated, unable to hide the disappointment.

Sara let out a sigh, knowing this wasn't going to be easy; that his awkward, yet very sincere speech, while genuine in its sentiment, had forced her into retreat.

"This," she explained, indicating them both with her hand, "would be very complicated. Could make things very complicated at work."

"Sara," he replied, very earnestly, "I can separate my work from my life. You don't have to worry about…"

"You might be able to," she interjected, "but I'm not sure I can."

Greg looked at her curiously.

"People will talk," she continued, as if that explained it all.

"And you don't want people talking about you…"

"Or us."

"Oh," Greg said shortly and Sara knew instantly he'd taken it the wrong way.

It wasn't about her being embarrassed by him. It wasn't about that at all. Sara didn't care what people thought about her or about them. She never had. Mostly, she just needed an excuse and it was the first one that had popped into her head. Any excuse because the real reason was that she was scared. Scared for no reason of what could be, in his own words, great.

"Alright," he said, after a pause, "well, I have my answer."

Sara, seeing how hurt he was despite his best effort to appear otherwise, wanted to tell him the truth but ultimately chose not to. She reasoned that it was better this way for both of them.

After all, they could continue being friends. That would be the easiest and safest thing to do. Sure, he was hurt now but he'd get over it. Sara was certain of it. And it was better to have a little hurt than a lot because ultimately, that would be how it ended.

No matter how simple and easy it would seem to be, she knew better than that. Eventually it would catch up with them and end in disappointment.

And Sara was sure she couldn't handle another disappointment like that.

* * *

Greg wasn't sure how he'd made it through the rest of their meal together. It hadn't been easy, but all in all he thought he'd done alright.

Yes, he was disappointed. Extremely so, but he'd also promised Sara not to let that come between their friendship. And he was determined to stick to his word.

Not that that would be easy either.

Fortunately he had something else to help occupy his mind at the moment, because no matter what was happening in his life he couldn't entirely put aside Ashley Baker.

Knowing that it could cost him his job, Greg headed from the restaurant to the Rio.

Greg remembered the employee parking pass he'd found in her car and thought it couldn't hurt to ask around. To see if any of Ashley's friends or co-workers had noticed a difference in her. In short, to discern if she really had been suicidal.

It was easy getting in with his credentials. He'd quickly explained the situation to the manager and been told that Ashley was a part-time employee in one of the main bars; a cocktail waitress. The manager, Mr. Jeffries, hadn't been able to tell him much about Ashley. He hadn't really known her, but did say that she was always punctual and never had a bad review. After that he'd led Greg to the employee locker room and given him access to her locker and belongings.

There wasn't much there and nothing Greg planned on taking. A few photographs of Ashley with some friends, one of what appeared to be her family and a change of clothes were all it really afforded.

"She didn't keep much in there," a voice from behind called out, startling him before quickly apologizing for the scare.

"It's okay," Greg assured her.

"What are you, a cop? I thought she, you know, killed herself."

"We're just making sure we've covered everything," Greg answered.

The woman nodded. In a lot of ways she reminded him of Ashley. She fit right in. She was young, probably in her mid-twenties at the most, but she looked older. Vegas did that to people.

"Did you know Ms. Baker?"

"Ashley?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did anyone?"

Greg continued to stare at her, waiting for the additional information he knew would come.

"Ashley was nice, but kept to herself. Quiet. Didn't really socialize with the rest of us. You know the type."

"Yeah, I do."

"Plus, she was a little…odd."

"How so?" Greg asked, taking notes.

"Are you really a cop?" she asked, growing skeptical.

"I'm a crime scene investigator," Greg answered, showing her his identification.

"So, like a detective?"

"Kind of," Greg returned, wanting to get back to Ashley.

"What kind of money do you make?"

"Enough," Greg said with a small smile, "but what were you saying about Ms. Baker?"

"Oh, Ashley," the woman continued, but smiling more than before, "she was just a bit off. Never really sure if she was completely there, upstairs. Like she had too much to think about; just constantly preoccupied. And she was always making friends with the blue-haired crowd."

"But it's kind of your job here to make friends with the customers, right?"

"Yeah," the woman agreed, "but only the ones that tip well. Guys your age, that's where the real money is made doing this. You smile, flirt a little, bring them an extra drink. But Ashley was always wasting her time chatting up the older ladies. Worst tippers there are."

Greg nodded, taking mental note of it. If she had been scamming money with her psychic bit, this is probably how she met her marks.

"Did you notice any changes in her lately?"

"Well," she began, "she'd started getting really touchy. Like, okay so you see what they make us wear, right?"

Greg nodded, not looking as best he could at the less than modest attire, typical of waitresses in the casinos.

"It's like an open invite to some the guys, high rollers especially."

"Wandering hands," he provided.

"Exactly," she said with a brisk nod. "But it comes with the territory. If a guy gets to be too much you get the pit boss. No big deal. Well, a few weeks ago some guy gives her a little pat on the backside and she goes nuts. Starts yelling at the top of her lungs. Just completely freaks out."

"What happened?"

"Well Terry, Mr. Jeffries, sent her home for the night. Told her to take a break. Next day she comes back, no problem."

"And she'd never acted that way before?"

"Not that I'd seen. And that kind of thing gets around. Isn't exactly great for business. I think she was just overworked. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping, it gets to you after awhile."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, writing it all down in his notebook.

"I know I probably shouldn't have, and I wouldn't have if I'd known she was going to do something like this, but I gave her some of my Valium. Just a few. I thought it would help her get a decent night's rest for once. She really did look a mess."

Greg nodded, that at least cleared up one part of it all.

"Is there anything else, because I need to get back to work."

"No, that's it. Thanks for your help…" Greg paused, realizing he'd forgotten the most important part of his training, always get a name.

"It's Jane," she said with a smile and a wink, "just Jane."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need any trouble over the drugs, so if we could keep that part…"

"No," Greg said, "no, don't worry about that. But why… why did you pick Jane?"

She gave him an odd look, like it should be obvious.

"Everyone wants to be anonymous."


	10. Madness

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Pay attention, this is the most information I have and probably will give out about the case at hand. Oh, and I've been waiting for a very long time to use this song.

"_And I find it kind of funny  
I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you  
I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles its a very very  
Mad world"_  
**_Gary Jules 'Mad World'_**

**Chapter 10: Madness**

'_I had that dream again. The one where I'm falling. Just falling without stopping. I don't know why it scares me so much, but it does. I can't understand it. Not at all.'_

'_There was more to the dream than before. I was pushed. I felt it, I was pushed. Someone pushed me off a ledge. It was horrible. Even though I knew it was only a dream I really thought I was dying. It's getting where I can't sleep at all. I just want it to all go away.'_

'_I've stopped going by Mrs. Juarez's house. Last night, after having another nightmare, I realized I started having them after we'd met. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, but it has something to do with her. Something, but I'm not sure what. I'm not sure of anything anymore. What if I'm just losing my mind?'_

'_It's happening during the day now. Almost all of the time. I can't get her face out of my head. It's not me falling, it's her. Always her. I have to go back and ask Mrs. Juarez about her, but how? What will she think? Her son has already called the cops on me, if I go back now, what will that look like? Besides, I don't think she knows. I'm sure she doesn't, or she'd have asked me to speak with her instead of him. Maybe this is my payback. Karma works like that, I think. I took her money and now I'm paying for it. Her daughter is haunting me.'_

'_Today in the newspaper I saw a face. I've seen it before, in one of my dreams. He's connected to all of this somehow, but I just can't put it together. I was never good at riddles.'_

'_Why are all the clowns bloo?'_

'_I think the man from the paper did it. Why else would I keep seeing him in my dreams? He was there in the desert. He must have been there. He must have killed her, but I'll never be able to prove that. I have to find out more.'_

'_I'm spending all my spare time now looking up the man from the paper. I've even seen him a few times around town. I know so much about him, except how he fits into all of this. I know now he couldn't have done it. I looked her up and she went missing too long ago, he's just not old enough. But he is somehow involved. The key to it all. I got such a strong feeling when I saw his picture, I'm sure of it. Maybe he'll be good at riddles and figure this all out. Maybe then I can rest.'_

'_I thought the nightmares would get better, but they haven't. If anything it's worse. Finding him was supposed to finish this for me. I've been trying my best to tell him everything, but it never comes out right. Half the time I don't know what I'm saying myself. It makes no sense. Why is this happening?'_

'_I've been writing notes in my sleep. They're all over the place. What does this mean?'_

'_She was murdered. She was. I saw it. I saw it all. Her hands were tied with a bright blue scarf. It's horrible and I can't get it out of my head. I wish I'd never met any of them. Wish I'd never seen her, or him, or known about any of this. I didn't want to know. Oh God, I didn't want to know.'_

'_I was wrong. He isn't the key to this. I am.'_

'_I think I've done enough. At least, I've done everything I can. Set things in motion. He has to stop it before it happens again. And it will. It will. And there isn't much time. The monster is waking. I woke with it.'_

'_I'm ready now.'

* * *

_

Sara closed the last journal with a sigh. She'd been pouring through it for the last few hours, having come in early specifically to do so, and none of it made sense.

Well, it did and it didn't.

It had obviously made sense to Ashley at the time, but she'd never read anything more vague before in her life.

There were a few things however she could assume.

One was that the man mentioned was Greg. That was an easy choice. They'd found all the information Ashley had gathered about him and even the picture from the paper mentioned in the journal. Sara even remembered when that picture had been taken, because despite being in it herself, Nick and Warrick had only hassled Greg at the time.

And to some extent now even Ashley's crazy obsession with Greg was making sense. She'd thought he'd committed a murder and wanted to know more; maybe even needed too. She'd probably begun fishing around his life to dig up dirt only to find none and then later to decide that he'd been too young to be the culprit after all.

Which begs the question, when did this supposed crime take place?

And exactly how did Mary Juarez fit in? She was Ashley's last scam victim, that they knew, but who was the other woman mentioned in the journal? Was she the one murdered? And if she was, why didn't Mrs. Juarez know about it?

Sara mentally stopped herself.

This was madness.

She was getting sucked in. She was letting Greg suck her into this wild goose chase.

The most probable explanation was that Ashley Baker was a very disturbed young woman who didn't get help in time.

"Hey."

Sara was startled by the voice from behind, however familiar, but quickly recovered.

"Hi Nick," she said as she gathered up the papers.

"So what, are you and Greg competing for like employee of the month?"

"What?" Sara asked, standing as she finished her stacking.

"Well it's still an hour before shift and it looks like you've been here for at least two already. Greg told me he's been here for four. No other explanation, right?"

Sara could easily see what he was getting at. Nick knew what they were up to, what they were investigating.

"I was just going over some old paperwork."

"Yeah well, I wouldn't let Ecklie see you doing that," Nick warned. "But if you need an extra set of eyes…"

"I know who to ask," Sara finished for him with a smile. "Thanks."

Nick just smiled back at her as he left.

Sara left shortly after him, moving down the hall in search of whichever room Greg had holed himself up in. Finding him in three attempts in the smallest layout room, she entered after tapping quickly on the door.

"Hi," Greg said looking up briefly, "I was going to come find you. I've been going over these old murder cases."

"I've been reading Ashley's journals," Sara said sitting across from him.

"Anything interesting?" Greg asked, his attention fully caught.

"Lots really, I'm just not sure how much of it is believable."

Greg leaned in on his elbows anxious to hear more, causing Sara to blush despite herself as a flood of emotion came crashing over her.

She knew he was only interested in what she was saying, what she had to say, but the gesture was also intimate and made her think things she'd already put an end to that morning.

"Um," she said, leaning back slightly as she did so, "for starters she's been having dreams about death. Falling from heights, being pushed, things like that."

"Well that fits in with these cases."

Sara nodded in agreement before moving on.

"She also thinks the Juarez's are connected. She wrote about either a sister or a daughter of Mrs. Mary Juarez being murdered. Wasn't a whole lot of detail and no name."

"None of the victims were named Juarez," Greg remarked, finally leaning back and away from her as he did so, "but if it was a sister she could have had a different last name. But I read the police report, Mary Juarez is in her late sixties. Any sister of hers is going to be around that age, all of the women killed were in their twenties and thirties."

"Unless she has a much younger sister."

Greg nodded, having not thought of that.

"Still, the murders were twenty years ago," Sara mused. "A daughter maybe?"

"There is a Jane Doe, the last one…no, the first. The first one found was a Jane Doe. Could that be her? If it is, we could find a fresh lead on who did these murders."

Sara thought about it, about the wording in the journal. How Ashley had written that Mrs. Juarez must have not known and as crazy as it sounded, it also sounded like it fit.

"It could," Sara finally answered, "but how are we going to prove it? We can't just go walking into Mrs. Juarez's house and tell her we think her daughter was murdered. We don't even know if she has a daughter."

"Let me handle that," Greg said firmly. "I'll check into missing persons, county records. If she has a daughter, it'll be there."

"Even if she does," Sara continued, trying hard to dissuade him, "then what? We go to cold cases and ask Detective Harper to authorize us to get a DNA comparison? That's even assuming there is a sample available on hand from the original case or that Mrs. Juarez can be persuaded to cooperate. And if there is no sample, this Jane Doe is likely buried in the county cemetery and we'd need a court order to exhume her. Forget that by that point Ecklie will know what we are up to raining down grief on us all, because Harper will never agree to it in the first place. He's going to want a good, solid lead before he even considers it. He just doesn't reinvestigate these cases on whims."

Greg nodded but she could tell none of it was getting through.

"Listen," Sara said, "it's time to let this go. Greg, I think it's admirable that you care so much, but you can't solve them all. You can't save them all."

"Sara," Greg began, clearly taking his time to gather his thoughts, "I know I can't. But this is different. We could have a chance here to really do something important."

"Our job isn't just solving serials."

"I know," Greg returned, looking hurt at the thought. "I didn't mean that. I meant that we could finally give this girl a real burial, her family some real peace of mind. It's been twenty years, Sara. Twenty years. I can't even imagine what that'd be like. I know it's not the ending anyone wants, but at least it's an ending."

"You're right," Sara said with a short nod, looking down.

"So, you're still going to help me?"

"Of course I am," Sara confirmed immediately.

"Okay," he said, sounding more positive than before, "let's visit Mrs. Juarez tomorrow then. After shift?"

"Sounds…"

Greg cell rang cutting Sara off mid-sentence.

He quickly stood and excused himself, stepping to the far side of the room which really wasn't saying much given its size.

"Sanders," he said into it, as once more Sara tried to look interested in anything but his conversation.

A heavy sigh escaped him. Accidentally she caught his eye to which he gave her a small smile as he mouthed 'Anne' as he shook his head. Sara smiled back before looking away to give him as much privacy as possible.

"Anne," Greg tried interrupting, "it was given to me."

A series of loud, angry words followed that statement, none of which were discernible.

"Yes, both. What do you care about coins anyway?"

Greg threw his head back and sat on the end of the table, his back completely to Sara now.

"No I'm not selling them. I don't care…"

Greg stopped there and his voice dropped noticeable before continuing.

"…I don't care if I do need the money, I'm not doing it."

Sara was beginning to wish herself anywhere but where she was.

"Anne, I can't do this now. I'm at work. We'll talk later, okay? Bye."

Greg hung up without giving his sister a chance to say anything else. Turning back around he tried to act like nothing had happened but it wasn't working. Sara could read it on his face how angry he really was.

Instead of mentioning it, Sara just reminded him that they had a shift meeting to attend, to which he looked greatly relieved. However, before they got out the door, he stopped her.

"Sara," he began, taking in a big breath, "um, I don't want it to be…I don't think it is, but I don't…I'm not going to bring up this morning. I'd like us to just pick up like we were, like friends. I meant that."

And, without reason, certainly without design, Sara just looked him in the eyes, smiled, and kissed him once on the cheek before touching her hand to his chest and walking away.

Greg was still watching her walk away when Nick partially roused him out of his near stupor.

"What was that about?" he asked, having seen it all.

"I have no idea," Greg answered honestly.

It was all madness.


	11. Hope

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Sorry if this is taking a very long time to get out, but I really can't help it. Thanks for your patience and thanks to Tripp3235 and RivenSky for all the help!

"_In all things it is better to hope than to despair."_

_**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**_

**Chapter 11: Hope**

"Greg."

No answer.

"Greg," she repeated, this time a bit louder.

Still nothing.

"Greg," Sara said once more, this time reaching over and shaking him by the shoulder.

"What?" he grumbled looking at her somewhat surprised.

"We're here."

"What?"

"We're here," Sara said, indicating the condo in front of them, Mrs. Mary Juarez's home.

Greg sat up straighter and blinked back the sun from his eyes before turning fully to Sara.

"Did I fall asleep?"

Sara just nodded with a small smile on her face.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "I haven't really been getting enough. Sleep. How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes," Sara confirmed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Sara said. "If you want, I can just drive you home. We don't have to do this today."

"No," Greg said firmly, "we do. The more we get and the quicker we get it, the better."

"Did you find anything out last night?" Sara asked.

She'd meant to have asked earlier, but there hadn't been a chance. Greg and Sara had worked different cases all night and obviously hadn't had any opportunity to talk on the drive over, not with Greg snoring.

"Yeah," Greg said, sounding more awake than before, "Mary Juarez does have a daughter named Lydia. She was reported missing about fifteen years ago. At the time she was twenty and there were no signs of foul play so not much was done. Cops thought she probably wanted to disappear. Start over. Happens a lot, I guess."

"Then Lydia can't be our Jane Doe," Sara reasoned. "Not from the cases we have. The Jane Doe from that serial was found over twenty years ago."

Greg nodded; he had had that thought himself.

"So…" Sara said, drawing it out and waiting for an answer.

"So," Greg picked up, "I think we should still talk to her. Yes, Lydia Juarez isn't the Jane Doe from those cases, but Ashley knew something about her. About what really happened to her."

Sara looked skeptical, but held her tongue. Greg was really reaching now.

"If nothing comes of it," he went on, knowing too well what she was thinking, "we stop. I mean it. I'll walk away from this and never look back. I swear."

Sara still had that look on her face, but slowly relented with a nod.

As they both got out of the car and made their way to the house, Sara had to ask.

"Any idea what we're going to say?"

"I thought we'd just bring up Ashley's death and…."

"Wing it?"

"Pretty much," Greg answered, smiling at her as they reached the door.

Mary Juarez was in her late sixties. She had greeted them first skeptically, but once they'd explained why they were there, she had let them right in.

"That poor girl," she said, ushering them to the living room. "She was so nice. She use to come by and help me water my plants. My arthritis is horrible and I have trouble reaching the ones up high. Such a sweet girl. I could hardly believe it when I saw it on the news. Did she really jump? The reporter said she did."

"We're still looking into it," Greg answered. "We just had a few questions for you about her."

"If it will help," she responded, taking a seat and lighting up a cigarette.

"How did you meet Ashley?" Greg began.

"At the Rio. She was one of the waitresses there, in my favorite lounge. She'd always stop and chat with me."

Greg went on like this for a few minutes sitting near by as Sara stood and casually scanned the shelves and bookcases.

"We understand that your son filled a police report barring her from the house?" Greg asked, finally getting past the pleasantries a bit.

Mary sighed.

"Yes," she admitted, "he did. David is very, well, he's like his father, God rest his soul. He didn't like her coming by so much. Thought she was up to no good. He didn't know her. Ashley wouldn't hurt a fly. She couldn't."

"The report said that she'd taken money," Sara interjected.

"No," Mary answered firmly, "no. That's just not true. She never took anything. I gave her the money."

"Seven thousand dollars?" Sara questioned.

"Actually," Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone, "it was closer to fifteen. David guessed it was seven. Not that it's his business how I spend my money. You get to a certain age and suddenly your children think they know what's best for you. He's been trying to get me into a home for years now."

"You said spent," Greg interrupted the first chance he could. "Did you buy something from Ashley or was the money a gift?"

Mary paused and looked quickly to Sara and then back to Greg again. It was look they both knew. She clearly thought she wasn't going to be believed, at least not by Sara.

"Ashley was special. She had a gift. I paid her to use that gift."

"What type of gift?" Sara asked.

"She could speak to the dead," Mary said plainly. "She was giving me messages from my husband Carlos. He's been gone ten years now, but through her he lived again."

Neither Greg nor Sara said anything.

"I know what you're thinking," Mary went on. "You're thinking the same thing David thought. But it's true. She could talk to him. It was money well spent. I'd of given her everything I had just to hear from Carlos one more time, but she stopped coming by."

"Why's that?" Greg asked.

"Well, David denies it but I think he warned her off. This was before he called the police but he was always suspicious of her. I saw her at the Rio a few weeks ago, but as soon as she saw me she just turned and walked away."

"Did she ever talk to you about anyone else?" Sara asked now.

"Once," Mary confirmed. "Just once. I think it might have been the last time she was here. If not, very close to it. She asked me about my daughter. If I needed a message from her, but that was crazy. My daughter isn't dead."

"Your daughter?"

"Lydia," Mary answered, getting up and taking down a small silver frame from the self nearest Sara.

"Have you heard from her lately?" Sara asked.

"I haven't heard from Lydia in a very long time," she answered, "but she isn't dead."

Sara nodded.

"Lydia was what we use to call a free spirit. She probably made her way to Europe. She'd always wanted to go there. I'm sure that's it. One day she'll call and…well… one can always hope."

Mary trailed off, lost in her own delusion.

"She's not dead," she repeated after a moment. "I know Ashley had a gift, but even gifted people make mistakes. I'm sure that's it."

* * *

The ride back was silent.

Sara and Greg were both mentally reviewing the odd conversation they'd just had with Mary Juarez and trying to decide where to go next.

Finally, Sara pulled up next to Greg's car in the lab parking lot and they both continued on in unmovable silence.

"What do you think?" Greg finally asked.

"That Lydia Juarez is probably dead and that Ashley Baker knows something about it," Sara confessed. "I think Mrs. Juarez knows it too, but she just can't deal with it."

Greg nodded in agreement.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Well," Sara said, having thought about nothing else the entire time, "we can go back over the journal, the car contents while we still have them. Her parents could show up any time now and take them. We need to get as much out of them as possible, as soon as possible. I don't think we can do this alone."

Greg nodded again.

"Nick offered to help last night," Sara supplied.

"Really?" Greg responded, laughing a bit. "Warrick did too."

"Couldn't hurt to have some extra eyes."

"No," Greg agreed, "not at all. I just… What are we going to do with it? If we do find something, then what?"

"We'll have to go to Grissom," Sara answered. "If he can't get the cases reopened…"

"Sara," he interrupted, "we don't even have a body."

Sara stopped and stared at him, and then without knowing why, burst out laughing.

"Why is that funny?" Greg asked, laughing now as well.

"It's not," Sara countered through the giggles that were still escaping. "It's really not. But I just pictured us going to Ecklie with all of this and… well…"

Sara began laughing again, even harder than before.

"He's going to make us each get psych counseling," Greg finished through his own laughter. "It might be worth telling him just to see the look on his face."

"I think we both need some sleep," Sara said, as soon as she'd calmed down enough to speak. "I haven't laughed like this in a long time; I must be punch drunk."

"I've heard you laugh like this," Greg argued. "We always…"

They were interrupted by a series of sharp taps on the passenger's window; taps that caused Greg to jump in his seat before turning to see a very concerned looking Grissom staring back at him through the glass.

"Hey Grissom," Greg said as casually as he could as he rolled down the window.

"I've been trying to call you for two hours."

"Really?" Greg asked, reaching for his phone and at all costs avoiding eye contact with Sara. He was positive if he looked at her, he'd start laughing again. It must look odd enough already, the two of them out in the parking lot four hours after shift change and laughing like loons. No need to add to it.

"Yes really," Grissom answered. "It keeps going to voice mail."

"Oh," Greg said, realizing the problem. "I shut it off."

He braved a quick look at Sara who instantly averted her eyes and bit her lip. Yep, she was fixing to laugh, too.

"My sister kept calling," Greg tried explaining, but was quickly cut off.

"Henry Baker is coming by to collect his daughter's things," Grissom continued. "Someone needs to release them to him and I thought you might want to do it."

"Yes," Greg answered, back to being seriously, "definitely. What time?"

"Two o'clock."

"I'll be here waiting," Greg returned.

Grissom paused, seeming to be considering what might have been going on before he'd come into the picture, but only for a moment.

"Keep your cell on," Grissom said before leaving, "no matter how many times your sister calls. That's why caller ID was invented."

"Got it," Greg said with a nod.

Sara and Greg both watched as Grissom walked back into the building, neither speaking. As soon as he was inside they each turned to one another and couldn't help but laugh. It had been a strange, strange morning.


	12. Loss

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Canon? Hmmm. Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.

"_Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."_

_**Norman Cousins**_

**Chapter 12: Loss**

It was a twenty till two and Greg was photocopying as fast as he could. He'd finished with the Post-it notes and all of the various materials Ashley had collected about him; all he had left was the journal.

Of course, he was going to try and talk Henry Baker into letting him keep it, try being the key word. He might not like that idea and Greg wouldn't blame him, so he had to have a backup. Granted, it wasn't a great plan but it was all he had.

But it was taking too long.

Greg had been surprised at the sheer volume of papers. She'd written everywhere and on any and everything. Ashley had even used both sides of the Post-it notes.

That and Anne kept calling. Despite Grissom's warning Greg had been forced to turn his cell off again. It was just distracting.

Ten more minutes passed and he was nearly done when he noticed something odd about the journal.

It was a hard covered spiral bound type, the kind you'd find in any stationary store, blue of course. But that wasn't it. Because it was spiral bound he could see that towards the end of the entries some had been torn out.

Knowing Sara would never damage evidence no matter what he could only assume that Ashley or someone else had removed the pages prior to her death or at least some time before Greg and Sofia had done collection at her apartment.

It was strange but there was no time to dwell on it.

He finished just in time. Almost immediately after he'd sealed the last bag the loudspeaker was calling his name announcing a visitor.

Rubbing his eyes briskly as he hurried down the hall, trying to appear more awake then he was Greg made his way to the receptionist's desk.

"Mr. Baker?" he asked the man standing there, extending a hand.

He nodded and shook Greg's hand.

Henry Baker was probably in his mid-fifties but today looked much older and it wasn't hard to imagine why. This couldn't be easy.

Greg quickly signed him in and handed him his visitor's badge.

"I'm Greg Sanders," he told him. "I helped investigate your daughter's death. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Mr. Baker must have seen the truth behind that statement because he gave him a weak smile in return.

"I still can't believe it," he said in return. "It just doesn't seem like it's…"

Greg nodded. He knew. It didn't seem real.

Opening the door, Greg ushered him inside and down the hallway to where the release paperwork was waiting.

Typically a supervisor would handle any release of evidence, and it was an enormous mark of trust that Grissom would even let Greg do it at all. However, if there was one thing Greg never messed around with it was the paper trail. Working in the DNA lab for so long had taught him the value of a signed receipt. Only one person had ever accused him of losing evidence, but even Ecklie couldn't deny his own signature when it had stared back up at him as proof.

Greg quickly explained all of the forms and watched as Mr. Baker signed them in a steady silence.

He knew that he should just let it be but this might be his only chance.

"Are those her things?" he asked once he'd finished, pointing to the two boxes Greg had only just finished packing.

Greg nodded. He wasn't good at this part, at dealing with the living victims. He never knew what to say and was continuously afraid of offending. Especially now.

But he had to ask.

"Mr. Baker," he began carefully, "did you have any idea that Ashley might harm herself?"

"No," he answered sadly. "None. But we haven't spoken in quite some time. Not since her mother died. She moved out of Indian Springs and that was that. Left it all behind I guess."

"So you haven't talked to her…"

"In quite a few years," he finished. "She was what we used to call a free spirit. Very bright. Special."

Greg stood there quietly, afraid to say more.

"But she had problems," Henry Baker went on, seeming not to notice Greg's turmoil. "I don't think she ever really felt like she fit in back home. I'd hoped she'd find her place here, but I guess…"

There was a heavy pause that Greg knew he had to break.

"Mr. Baker," he began, it was now or never, "while your daughter's case has been officially ruled a suicide there've been some discrepancies that we'd like to clear up."

"What kind of discrepancies?"

"Well," he answered, clearing his throat, "she'd come to our office a few weeks ago about another case she said she had information about. We think there might be something more to it in the papers we obtained from her apartment."

Mr. Baker looked at the boxes before him on the table as if considering it.

"We'd like to keep them for a little longer if you don't mind," Greg finished.

"What kind of case?" he asked, a look of concern etched into his features. "Was she mixed up in some kind of trouble?"

"No, nothing that involved her directly. We think she might have witnessed a crime."

Mr. Baker nodded his head and seemed to be eased by this.

"If it will help," he said firmly.

"We'll return them to you as soon as possible," Greg said gratefully.

"No hurry," he assured him. "Ashley would probably like to have been of help. It's what she'd of wanted."

* * *

Pulling into the parking lot Warrick wasn't at all surprised to see Greg's car even though shift change didn't happen for another two hours. Greg was getting as bad as Sara about work and Warrick had been meaning to talk to him for weeks now about it, which in itself was laughable. He never thought he'd find himself in a position where he'd be telling a grown man who frequently wore rubber gloves on his head to lighten up, but life was strange like that.

Heading straight for Greg's usual haunt, the second layout room, Warrick wasn't disappointed.

"You know this is exactly why Nicky wears glasses now," Warrick said as he stepped inside and flipped on the main lights, "too much reading in the dark."

"What?" Greg asked, squinting at the sudden change.

"Didn't you go home at all?"

"No," he answered back, his tone curt. "No time. I don't know how but I'm like five cases deep again. I swear someone is just shuffling the dead-end cases into my inbox."

"I know that feeling," Warrick returned with a nod, sitting on the edge of the table and glancing over the very full table.

"I don't know what I was thinking. Really, I don't. I can't do this. You all make this look so easy. Like you're playing Clue or something. Walk onto a crime scene and it's like, 'It was Colonel Mustard, in the observatory, with the candlestick'. How? How do you put it together that quick?"

Warrick laughed despite himself. Greg's frustration wasn't funny, just the way he expressed it.

"And I can't keep any of it straight," Greg went on. "It's all bleeding together. I read this page four times and I still don't know what the hell it said."

"You need to take a break," Warrick cut in.

"I can't," Greg sighed, shaking his head. "I just took one."

"Greg," Warrick said shaking his head. "That was not a break. That wasn't a vacation you were on."

Greg didn't say anything, just looked back to the table.

"I know it isn't easy," Warrick went on despite the lack of response. "When my grandmother died it was… it was bad. It was a tough time, but I made it and you'll make it too. You can't ignore it or it'll only make things worse."

Greg was on the verge of saying something when a loud knock interrupted them.

"Greg," Grissom said, "I need to see you now. In my office."

He didn't stick around for confirmation, just left the two of them there. Greg stood, let out a big breath of air and shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I got this," Warrick said, indicating the paperwork, "go take care of whatever that is."

"It didn't sound good, did it?"

"No," Warrick said shaking his head, "but it isn't going to get any better by sitting here."

Greg nodded, knowing he wasn't just talking about his business with Grissom.

"Thanks, man," Greg said clapping him once on the shoulder as he headed for the door.

"I've got your back."

* * *

Grissom's face went from unreadable to perplexed in a matter of seconds as Greg sat down.

"Did you stay here all day?"

"Not all day," Greg answered. "Why?"

"You haven't changed."

"Oh," Greg said, slightly embarrassed. "I was going to before shift. I didn't think anyone would notice."

"That shirt's hard to forget," Grissom returned with a hint of his usual smile.

"Is that what this is about?" Greg asked hopefully.

"No," Grissom shot back. "It's not. I got a call from Ecklie. It seems that David Juarez called to complain about two investigators paying his mother an unnecessary visit. He was very irate about the whole thing and wanted both investigators reprimanded."

Greg, unable to help it, fidgeted slightly in his seat, but said nothing.

"However," Grissom went on, "he only had one name to give."

Greg nodded slowly.

"So what Ecklie wants me to find out is who went with you and why."

For a full thirty seconds, neither spoke. Grissom seemed perfectly at ease waiting, but for Greg it was a struggle. He knew Grissom had probably put it all together already. That having seen him and Sara together earlier he'd know the truth. But despite that, Greg didn't want to get her in trouble over this. He'd gotten her into it after all.

"I was alone," Greg finally said. "I went alone."

Grissom fixed him with that stare, that look that said he knew. He knew the truth.

"Mr. Juarez must have misunderstood," Greg babbled on, "because it was just me. There. This morning. Alone."

"I've already talked to Sara."

Greg shut his eyes tight and rubbed both hands over his face.

"Ecklie wants both of you suspended without pay for three days," Grissom started again as Greg continued to twist in place. "But, as I am your supervisor, it is ultimately my decision."

He paused again, letting that sink in and Greg felt like he was done for.

"Was this about Ashley Baker?"

Greg, knowing lying was useless and that in all likelihood Sara had already filled him in, nodded.

"Mrs. Juarez was mentioned in her journals and we," Greg stopped and corrected himself, "I thought she might be able to give us some more information about Ashley."

"Anything else?"

"I," Greg continued, emphasizing the word hoping to save Sara further trouble, "also thought that Ashley might have had information about Mrs. Juarez's missing daughter."

"Missing daughter?" Grissom repeated, sounding like he was hearing this for the first time.

"Lydia Juarez has been missing for fifteen years. Ashley mentions her in the journals as well."

Grissom sat back in his chair as if mulling it over.

"I'm not going to suspend you," he finally said. "I think a verbal counseling is enough. Just stay away from Mrs. Juarez's house."

Greg muttered a sincere thanks before standing to go.

"Greg," Grissom called before he got the door open, "try and keep this unofficial investigation a little quieter from now on. If Ecklie catches wind of what you're really up to I'm not going to have any say in what happens."

"I will," Greg agreed.


	13. Envy

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks must be given to Tripp3235 and RivenSky who put up with my ramblings and correct my mistakes.

"_Nothing sharpens sight like envy."_

_**Thomas Fuller**_

**Chapter 13: Envy**

Two things happened during shift that really took Greg by surprise. The first being Nick and Warrick accosting him during dinner break and demanding to be let in on the 'unofficial' investigation into Ashley Baker. Their reasoning was sound, that the four of them together could get further than just Greg and Sara alone, plus that Greg was likely to work himself into the ground if he continued at this rate. He couldn't help but agree, and honestly it was a relief. Sara was a big help, but fresh and unbiased eyes would be a huge contribution.

The second surprise came by way of a note. Detective Harper, apparently informed by Doc Robbins that Greg was looking into some of his cold cases, asked him to stop by at the end of his shift. He wasn't as enthusiastic about this second surprise as he had been about the first, but seeing as Harper had gone directly to him and not Ecklie, he didn't think he was going to be told to back off. At least, he hoped he wasn't.

At the moment, he didn't have time to really think about either of these things. He sat, hunched over a map of Vegas trying to regain his bearings.

"She said it was exit 31?" Greg asked Warrick for the fourth time as they sped south down I-15.

"No, I think she said take exit 27 and then go north on Dean Martin. They're at mile marker 31."

Greg looked up just in time to see them whip past the flashing lights and easily recognizable SVUs on the side of the interstate. He didn't even have time to shake his head before his phone rang.

"She saw us," Warrick said with a hint of a smile.

"We're almost there," Greg said into the phone.

"Forget it," Catherine said in reply. "Grissom and I have got this one, we got another call."

He'd started to ask where, but it became unnecessary. Warrick had pulled up to the scene and Catherine, shutting her phone, walked over to tell them in person.

Five minutes later they were headed up Blue Diamond; past the very gas station he'd first seen Ashley towards Mountain Springs.

"Sara and Nick are probably already there," Greg said, mostly to himself. "Ten bucks says they send us somewhere else."

Warrick just laughed, concentrating hard on the road.

"So are we supposed to just guess where this scene is?" Greg asked, realizing they hadn't gotten specifics.

"You've never been to Mountain Springs before?"

"I've been to the canyon, but never stopped here," Greg answered, checking out the very sparse landscape.

"Trust me, it won't be hard to find."

And it wasn't. The town, like lots of towns around Vegas, was tiny. They were at the crime scene within five minutes of arriving.

"Took you long enough," Sofia said, coming up to greet them.

"Lot of cops for a small place," Warrick commented.

"Well, it's not everyday that construction crews stumble across five mummified bodies."

"What?" Greg and Warrick said at nearly the same time.

"There may be more," Sofia went on.

She quickly explained that the house was being demolished to make way for a convenience store. When crews broke into the first wall they found a body hidden behind the dry wall. They called the local police who quickly discovered four additional sets of remains. It was then that additional help was arranged.

"So where are Nick and Sara?" Warrick asked as they stepped inside.

"Sara's in the attic and Nick is in the dining room where the first body was found."

"Why don't you go give Sara a hand," Warrick said, not really a question.

"I'll show you the way," Sofia said, indicating the staircase with a quick nod.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Sofia pointed him to the ladder that led to the attic crawlspace.

"Hey Sara," he said loudly, as he made his way up, making sure he wasn't surprising her.

Stopping at the top, Greg took out his flashlight and waited a moment for Sofia to pass him his case. The space was small and dirty, not more than a crawlspace, limited and stifling. One look was all it took to understand why it was Sara up here instead of Nick.

"Nice shoes," Sofia said with a smile.

Greg, smiling back and looking down at his checkered Vans, laughed.

"That's why I got them, drives the ladies wild."

"I can see why."

"Ready to get to work?" Sara interrupted, rather curtly; meeting him at the steps he still hadn't finished climbing.

"Yep," Greg answered. "See you later Sofia."

"Have fun," Sofia's retreating voice answered back.

"What was that all about?" she asked, making her way back to the remains she'd been examining.

"What was what all about?"

"Nice shoes?" she repeated.

"It's called conversation," Greg retorted. "Being friendly. You remember it, right?"

Sara shot him an unmistakable glare.

"Okay," he muttered under his breath as he opened his case, "maybe you don't."

"What does that mean?"

"Jeez, Sara, let's not start. Okay? We were getting along fine this morning, why can't we now?"

Sara apparently had nothing to say to that. Quietly, they both set to work.

"But why does she care about your shoes," Sara suddenly burst out, some twenty minutes later.

"I don't know," Greg returned wearily, trying hard not to get dragged into an argument she seemed hell bent on having.

"It was like she was flirting with you."

"She wasn't flirting."

"Yes," Sara said, more determined and obviously more annoyed, "she was."

"So what if she was," Greg, overtired and frustrated, shot back. "Why do you care?"

Again, Sara was silenced. Greg had no idea why she was acting this way. Or even why she did care. He'd been upfront with her about how he felt, and she'd been equally honest with him. Where he went from there really wasn't her business.

"Are you going to ask her out too?" Sara asked a few minutes later, placing heavy emphasis on the word her.

"Give it a rest."

"Does that mean you already have?"

"No, it means no. I'm not interested in her," Greg said, also emphasizing the word her.

"Hey," called Nick from seemingly nowhere, stopping them both dead in their tracks. "I don't care who Greg asks out, but I thought you both would want to know that day shift is here to relieve us."

"Oh," Warrick's voice piped up, "that and we can hear you from here."

Sara and Greg waited until Nick and Warrick's laughter subsided before collecting their things to go.

"I'm really not interested in her," Greg said quietly. "She's not my type."

"What is your type then?" Sara asked, but her tone was much friendlier than it had been all night.

Greg looked up at her and smiled.

"Exasperating."

* * *

The ride back was silent. Greg had expected a thousand questions from Warrick about what he and Nick had overheard, but none came.

A little more than relieved, Greg headed straight for the locker room and from there to the showers. Half a night spent in a filthy attic didn't exactly make one presentable, and he still had to meet Detective Harper in another hour.

Showered and changed, he began dumping all his dirty clothes into a spare gym bag at his locker. Greg wasn't really surprised when Sara sat down next to him on the bench, obviously ready to talk.

"Got a minute?" she asked.

"Just one," Greg returned, as friendly as he could. "I've got to get to the station soon."

"I'm…" Sara started, but quickly stopped as the door opened and Catherine made her way inside.

"Hey guys," she called out. "Long night?"

"It was alright," Greg answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and trying to look casual.

Sara was evidently having the same idea, crossing her arms in front of her and smiling awkwardly back at Catherine.

The combined effect made them both look suspect.

Catherine, having retrieved her purse, shut and leaned back against her locker surveying them both.

"Everything okay?" she asked cautiously.

They both nodded, looking more than guilty without reason.

"Alright then," Catherine said, "bye."

"Bye," Greg called out. Sara only waved.

Catherine shot them one more worried glance before leaving.

"Let's walk, okay?" Greg asked, indicating the door.

Sara nodded in agreement; they weren't going to have any type of private conversation where they were.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Sara said once they'd exited the building. "I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately and I was a bit short with you. And you were right, it isn't…"

"Sara," he said, interrupting her mid-sentence, "stop. Please, just stop. We're both tired. We're both overworked and stressed out and just doing too much. It's okay. I told you, the most important thing to me between us is our friendship."

Sara nodded and watched the sidewalk as they progressed up the street.

"A lot of this, probably all of it, is my fault," he went on. "I got you involved in this whole mess of an investigation, which, if we're lucky, we won't get fired over. And I kind of sprung the whole talk on you about how I feel without really thinking about how you felt or if it was right…"

"I'm glad you told me," Sara said, it being her turn to interrupt. "I am. And I wish… I wish it could be different."

"It can't stay like this though," Greg said as they approached the police station.

"No, it can't," Sara agreed as they came to a halt on the steps.

Greg felt washed over with emotion. It was all confusion. And looking into Sara's eyes, he knew she felt the same.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted. "We can't be fighting…"

"That won't happen again," she cut in quickly.

"Well, you may not do it. But I might."

Sara smiled. She'd been unreasonably jealous, she knew that. But still, she couldn't help but be pleased that Greg would have felt the same in her position.

"Can we…"

But before Greg could finishing asking whatever it was he was about to ask, a man called out his name.

"Sanders?"

Greg and Sara both turned and faced the unknown man.

"Detective Harper?" Greg guessed.

"Saul is fine," he said, extending a hand to him. "Al told me you'd stick out. He wasn't lying."

Greg laughed before introducing Sara.

Saul gave her an appraising look, one she'd seen before. Saul Harper, a still fit man in his late fifties, was what they'd call 'old-school'. Old school meaning he didn't take well to women doing men's work. Something she'd come to expect and accept, reluctantly.

"You looking into this too?" he asked her, apparently deciding she was alright.

"I'm helping," Sara returned.

"Then you may as well come along," he said. "Save Sanders the trouble of repeating it."

With that, Harper turned and headed inside leaving the two of them to follow in his wake. Leaving everything unsaid between them to wait for another time.


	14. Highwayman

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Two chapters at once, I must be mad. Thanks to RivenSky and Tripp3235 again!

"_She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!_

_She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!_

_They stretched and strained in the darkness, _

_and the hours crawled by like years"_

_**Alfred Noyes 'The Highwayman'**_

**Chapter 14: Highwayman**

Detective Harper's office was in the basement, small and bursting at the seams with its contents. It was with no small contrivance that two extra chairs were brought in for both Greg and Sara to sit down.

"Sorry about that," Harper said, as he situated himself behind his desk. "I keep telling myself it's just for two years and then I retire. I only took this job to make the wife happy. She'd had enough of me out on the streets."

"You're moving to Florida," Greg asked, pointing out one of the many framed black and white photos on the wall.

"Maybe," he answered. "Probably, if the wife gets her way. And she usually does. She took those on our honeymoon. Sarasota, ever heard of it?"

Greg and Sara both shook their heads.

"Beautiful place," Harper went on, giving the photos a long look. "Beautiful. Long time ago. But you're not here to shoot the breeze, are you?"

Neither Greg nor Sara had a chance to answer as Detective Harper plowed on.

"Al told me you were interested in looking over some of my cases. Said he gave you the cursory files, but that you might want a closer look at the Highwayman."

"I'm sorry," Greg interrupted, "the who?"

"Highwayman," Harper repeated. "It's what all the newspapers were calling the crazy that did this. Stupid name if you ask me. Just sensationalizes the whole thing and we didn't need that, I can tell you. Had enough problems without the press. Beside, this guy never struck me as a highway man, more like a hollow man."

"Eliot," Greg said automatically.

"Exactly," Harper nodded. "Head stuffed with straw."

As he spoke he'd taken a number of files from this desk, much thicker than the ones Greg had seen before, and tossed them to Greg and Sara.

"You were the lead detective for these?" Sara asked, looking into the first file.

"Just the first one," he said shortly. "After the case got big, well, it went up the ladder."

"But you were in on a lot of the interviews," Greg said, also looking through one of the cases.

"Grunt work," he nodded. "Still, I was happy to just be involved even if we never caught the bastard."

Greg and Sara both flipped through the information quietly for a minute, Harper eyeing them eagerly.

"So," he asked after a few minutes time, "why the interest? Got something new?"

"No," Greg admitted, "not really. Nothing concrete. Just a…"

"Hunch?" he supplied.

"Sort of," Greg reluctantly agreed.

"There was a woman who died under suspicious circumstances," Sara said, stepping in. "It's been ruled a suicide, but a lot of the details about her death are similar to these murders."

"What," Harper shot back suspiciously, "you think she was involved? Because, I can tell you now that all the profilers pinned this on a man."

"No," Greg said, "not involved, but she might have known who the killer was."

"I see," he said, leaning back as if thinking it over. "What was this woman's name?"

"Ashley Baker," Greg answered.

"Baker," Harper repeated, as if it rung a bell. "Baker."

Evidentially he decided that it wasn't familiar, either that or it wasn't related to this particular case.

"Can't help you there," he began again, "wish I could. But, it's been a very long time."

* * *

The meeting over, Greg and Sara headed back to the lab with Detective Harper's promise to forward the entire case history to them that evening. It was a quiet walk, neither of them quite willing to continue their previous discussion.

Stopping in the parking lot at Sara's car, the both of them stood around for a full minute just staring at each other.

"Want to grab some breakfast?" Greg finally asked.

"Um…"

"Or lunch," Greg went on, checking his watch with a smile. It was nearly noon.

"Maybe," Sara began haltingly, "we should just give ourselves some room. You know, if we just back off a bit…"

"This will blow over?"

"More or less," Sara agreed.

"Ignore it," Greg said under his breath before continuing louder. "You really think that will work?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"No, it's been great so far," he returned sarcastically.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Sara asked, leaning against her car.

"You know what I suggest," Greg answered, leaning next to her and gently taking her hand in his.

Sara sighed, but didn't pull away.

"Now, this may just be complete delirium taking over seeing as I haven't slept in days," Greg began, sounding anything but delirious, "but Sara, I think we can make this work."

But he could tell he wasn't getting through, even if she hadn't let go of him yet.

"It's inappropriate," she said shortly, looking down at her feet.

"No," he corrected, with a smile that came too easily, "it would be inappropriate if you were my boss, but you're not my boss. We're co-workers. Co-workers are allowed to have lives. Together. If they want too."

"We're too different," Sara countered.

"See, I just happen to think we're different enough."

"Greg," she said softly, finally looking him in the eyes, "I am not an easy person to deal with."

"Yeah, I know."

Sara allowed a small smile to escape before quickly correcting herself.

"No, you don't. You say you do, but you don't. If we allowed this thing to happen, eventually you'd get sick of my mood swings, my temperament. Of me. And I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" Greg asked, moving closer. Turning towards her, his free hand coming to rest just above her elbow.

"Of… hurting you."

"You're not going to hurt me," Greg said incredulously. "And I would never hurt you."

"I know that," Sara nodded, blinking back tears, but sounding more like herself. "I do. But…"

"But what?" Greg asked quietly.

"Still here?" Sofia called out from a few rows away, causing Sara to quickly drop Greg's hand and move a few steps back. "Thought you'd both left hours ago. We tracked down the former owners of that house. Get this, turns out the couple used to own a side-show in one of those traveling circuses. They claim the bodies were left over from it. Course, we'll have to do some carbon dating to see if that's true, but, really, how bizarre."

"That is kind of crazy," Greg added half-heartedly.

"I've got to go," Sara said quickly, stepping around to the driver's side of the car and getting in without looking back.

Sofia and Greg both watched her tear out of the parking lot.

"I wasn't interrupting anything," Sofia reluctantly asked, "was I?"

"Not really," Greg admitted, mainly to himself.

"Hungry?"

Greg stopped to consider it for a moment before agreeing. It would do him some good to talk about something other than his failed love life, his family or Ashley Baker. And seeing as Sofia wasn't aware of any of these things, it would probably do him some real good to spend some time with her.

* * *

Sara knew what had to be done. She had to go see Greg, clear things up, hopefully get him to see reason about what couldn't happen, and part on good terms. She had to do it. All of that before shift started.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Still, there was no point in postponing. Waiting only long enough to ensure he was awake, around eight at night, she drove to his apartment and mentally went through all the things she'd planned on saying.

Of course all of those things flew right out of her head as she approached the door and heard loud, angry voices coming from the other side.

At first, Sara was sure she'd gotten the wrong apartment. All the buildings looked alike and she could have easily climbed the wrong staircase. But, after retracing her steps and checking the building number, she saw that she hadn't been mistaken.

She hesitated at the door, uncertain if she should interrupt. Sara couldn't tell much about what the fight was about, only that the other voice was definitely a woman's.

Just as she decided to knock, the door flew open on its own.

Sara had time enough to register surprise and step out of the way as a woman, a tall, pretty woman who looked at least six months pregnant shot her a contemptuous look before heading down the stairs.

"I should have known better than to expect you to be fair," she said loudly over her shoulder, taking the steps faster than she should in her condition. "You've always been a spoiled, selfish child. I'd thought you'd grown up by now."

Greg, not stopping and perhaps not even seeing Sara, was fast on the woman's heels.

"You're only angry because for the first time in your life you're not getting your way," Greg retorted.

"I don't have time for this," she returned. "Jake's picking me up. The sooner we leave the better."

"No one asked you to come."

"No, Greg," she stopped, rounding on him with a sour look on her face, "of course no one did. Why would you? You'd never ask any of us to come because then you'd have to be reminded of what a failure your life is."

Greg started to say something but was quickly cut off again.

"You've never taken responsibility for anything in your life. Never. And if anything gets too hard you just quit. You dropped out of medical school, you quit the lab in San Francisco, you quit the lab in Vegas, what are you going to do next? You're running out of places to hide and you're too old to keep changing jobs like they were socks."

"I've got a job I…"

"Exactly. You've got a job but you need a career. You need security. Mom and Dad aren't going to be there for you to fall back on forever and neither am I. Papa's already gone, at least try and become the man he thought you were."

"Anne," Greg started, his face flushed, "you don't know the first thing about my life…"

"I know that you had to sell your car and your condo," she fired back aggressively. "And that you took a twelve thousand dollar pay cut so you can, what, play cops?"

Just then a car pulled up and the woman, Anne, stepped confidently to it.

"Grow up, Greg," she said calmly before getting inside and driving away.

Sara watched silently as Greg came silently back up the steps. She'd never seen him look angrier. She wasn't sure if she should stay, but as he got closer he kind of smiled, deciding the matter.

"Sorry about that," he said, truly looking embarrassed, "Anne's kind of… abrasive."

"That's a way of putting it."

This time Greg genuinely smiled, ushering her inside.


	15. Stay

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** This is as canon as I can make it. To be honest, I've tried deciphering Sara from what the show's given us and had to give up. So largely, I made this up.

"_If you say that you are mine  
I'll be here 'til the end of time  
So you got to let know  
Should I stay or should I go?"_

_**The Clash 'Should I Stay or Should I Go?'**_

"_You say I only hear what I want to."_

_**Lisa Loeb 'Stay'**_

**Chapter 15: Stay**

Sara wasn't sure what to say and Greg seemed too embarrassed to talk. So, after Greg invited her in and got them both drinks, they sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Every thing she could think of to say felt inappropriate and she certainly couldn't launch into her prepared speech now. Sara didn't have the heart for it.

She needn't have been worried.

Greg had already guessed why she was there. In fact, when Anne had shown up at his door that evening he'd thought it was Sara.

"Let's get out of here,' Greg said, suddenly getting to his feet and offering her a hand up.

Sara hesitated.

"I know why you're here," Greg continued. "After this morning… I can put two and two together, no matter what Anne might say. I just… let's go somewhere where I won't cause a scene. Okay?"

Sara could tell he was trying, trying very hard in fact, to make as light of the situation as he could. He probably did know what she was going to say; probably better than she did. So she'd agreed. Greg threw on a work-appropriate shirt, just in case, and they were off in less than five minutes to a casual sushi place they'd been to a few times before.

After ordering they sat in an uneasy, icy silence surrounded by other happier couples who were laughing and smiling and generally making them both feel worse.

"I am sorry," Sara said quietly, "about this. I really am."

"Don't be sorry," Greg quickly corrected. "I mean, don't feel bad. If you don't feel the same…"

"Greg," she cut in, "it's not that. Really. I do think… I mean, if things were different…"

"Is this the 'we work together' speech again? Because, Sara, you're not a good liar. I know that's not it. Just tell me the truth. Is it my hair? Do I remind you of your brother or something?"

"No," Sara laughed, relaxing for the first time and happy to see he had a bit as well. "No, it's definitely not that. I kind of like your hair."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling back at him. "It's just… it's very complicated."

"Try me."

Sara sat sipping her water and considering it.

"I'm not good at relationships," she finally said, quickly adding. "And don't tell me it's because I haven't met the right guy yet. I've tried. I've tried plenty of times and it just never… it never works out for me. I just think some people are meant to be alone. They're better off that way."

"You can't believe that."

Sara shrugged in a noncommittal fashion, letting him know it was his choice.

"You just can't," he echoed.

"Greg," she sighed, "I'm serious. Some people just are."

"Well yes," he agreed, "some people are. But you? You think you should spend your whole life alone? Why?"

"It's…"

"Complicated?" he supplied.

"Private."

Greg sat back in his chair and sighed, knowing he'd lost for good this time. Sara was shutting him off bit by bit. It was almost painful.

"Alright," he said, shrugging his shoulders much as she had. "I give up. You know, the last time we had this conversation, it never really sunk in. I'd thought you still felt… I don't know… something for me. That you might change your mind. And then last night… after last night, I hoped you had."

Greg paused hoping she'd stop him, but she didn't.

"I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to decide what you want. Sara, I'm crazy about you, but I just can't do that. And I feel like a fool for waiting this long because it just seems to me that you don't care. Or, if you do, you won't let yourself. So, I'm done. I'm done."

"You don't understand," she started, sounding angry even, "you don't know why…"

"I don't know because you won't tell me."

Sara turned her head away quickly, almost as if he'd slapped her; the words stung.

They were both thankfully interrupted by the arrival of their dinners. For several long minutes ate in silence.

"I'm afraid of becoming my mother," Sara blurted out in-between bites.

Greg, not sure how to react, or even if he should, just looked up briefly from his plate and met her eyes.

"I'm afraid that I'll just wake up one morning…"

Sara just suddenly stopped talking and brought her hands to her face.

For what felt like an eternity Greg just stared at her, completely shocked and deeply ashamed. He had wanted a reaction from her, some sign that might prove him wrong, but he hadn't wanted this.

"Sara," he tried, lowering his voice and taking her hands in his, "please. Sara. I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"It's okay," she assured him, still sounding off. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

Sara gathered her composure and looked up at him. She wasn't mad at Greg, she really wasn't. How could she be, he was right. She'd never told him.

She just didn't like thinking about her past, but sometimes it seemed like the only thing that filled her head; the only thing that drove her future.

And it was now or never.

Sara knew that. She knew that if she didn't tell him now, she never would. And that would mean letting go; really letting go of something that could be, might be, great.

Something that would be real.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

They'd sat in his car.

They'd sat in his car in front of her apartment as Sara told Greg everything she knew and could recall about her parents.

They'd been happy once, Sara was sure of it. She remembered the sound of her mother's laugh. She remembered how her father had called them both 'his girls'. But most of all she remembered the night it had all ended.

A few doctors and a lawyer had claimed it was a 'psychotic break'. That Laura Sidle had 'snapped' one night and killed her husband in her sleep. Sara hadn't believed it, but a judge and jury had.

Sara couldn't accept it because there had to be a reason. No one kills without a reason, without a clue as to why. Especially not someone they'd seemed to love so much.

For years she denied it. She'd pushed it from her mind. Ignored it and pushed it from her mind, but it wouldn't let her rest.

And if she wasn't busy ignoring the truth, she was apologizing for it. Making her own excuses. He must have abused her. He must have cheated. Or her, it had been her. Jealous, malicious, evil. There had to be something.

It wasn't until recently that Sara began to accept the truth. That there was no reason.

Years as a CSI had taught her that sometimes there was no reason.

And that was the hardest part.

There was no reason.

Her mother had killed her father for no reason, and if she could, so could Sara.

"I meant it," she said softly, after repeating the whole of to him. "I meant just what I said. I'm afraid of hurting you. Of hurting anyone I could… Of just snapping…"

"You're not your mother," Greg interjected quickly.

"I'm my mother's daughter."

"That's not going to happen to you."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"I don't. Not really."

Sara stared at him disbelievingly.

"But no one does," he countered. "That's life. Good or bad, that's what it is. You're not supposed to know what happens in the future."

"This coming from the man whose reading a 'psychic's' journal hoping to solve a twenty year old crime."

"That's beside the point," Greg said with a smile which Sara just managed to return.

"So what is the point?"

"The point," Greg answered, "is that you shouldn't be afraid of all the things that might happen or you'll miss out on all the things that could."

Sara sat and considered it. Really considered what he was saying.

"Who taught you that?" she asked after a lengthy pause.

"Papa Olaf."

"Well," Sara said, "it sounds like he was a really smart man."

"He was," Greg agreed, "but I think he got that off of a fortune cookie."

It wasn't true, but it had the desired effect.

Sara laughed.


	16. Unexpected

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thank you Tripp3235 and RivenSky!

"_A thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes."_

_**Mark Twain**_

**Chapter 16: Unexpected**

"Are you even listening to me?"

Greg turned and looked at Nick who was staring at him with a somewhat amused expression on his face.

"Sorry," he offered up.

"I was saying," Nick began again, "that Warrick and I did a bit of digging this afternoon into Henry Baker. Did you know he was also charged with fraud?"

"Same as Ashley?"

"Almost identical. Took quite a bit of money from people, but he's either stopped since then or gotten better at it."

"How long ago was that?"

"At least fifteen years ago. Can't remember exactly. Quite a coincidence though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Greg agreed, "it is."

But Greg wasn't just thinking about both father and daughter running the same scam. He was thinking more about the fact that fifteen years ago Lydia Juarez had disappeared. Could that also be a coincidence?

"Greg," Nick said loudly, once more calling his attention. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

"Huh?"

"I think you got that spot," Nick said, pointing to the desk Greg had been dusting for prints.

Greg looked down and grimaced.

"Well," he tried shrugging it of, "no prints there."

"No kidding," Nick returned, laughing at the only four square inches of surface covered with powder.

"I've kind of got a lot on my mind," Greg said in his defense.

"I can tell," Nick said, "but you shouldn't let this case eat at you. You're doing all you can. None of us are going to find answers overnight."

"It's not just the case," Greg blurted out before thinking.

It was true, but it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. He felt good, optimistic even, about his talk with Sara earlier, but it really was only that; just a talk.

Nick gave him a shrewd look but didn't question him about it.

"Whatever it is," he finally continued, "you can't let it distract you like this. Especially in the field. You never know…"

Nick and Greg both jumped at a loud crash from above.

The house they were in was old and thought to be deserted. For a vacant house, it was surprisingly clean, but still in use; probably by the homeless.

They'd received an anonymous call about the body, but by all indications it appeared to be a natural death. It wasn't a new occurrence. Still, they'd had to investigate until the coroner's official ruling.

The house was also supposed to have been cleared.

This had become a problem lately. Clark County was stretched thin and didn't have the manpower to always leave a cop on scene with an investigator. So, if the situation was deemed under control, the officer could be called away.

And tonight that is exactly what had happened.

Greg wasn't surprised to see Nick had already drawn his gun and was creeping towards the staircase.

Nick made a motion for Greg to where he was, if only because Greg didn't carry a gun. But once he'd gone up stairs, Greg couldn't help but climb the first two steps himself.

"It's okay," Nick called out a few moments later.

Curious now, Greg went up the remainder of the steps and found Nick in the first open bedroom.

"Bird must have flown in," Nick said, pointing out the open window. "I think it knocked that picture off the wall."

Greg didn't look; he was too busy staring at the biggest bird he'd ever seen up close.

"I think it's got a nest here," Nick continued. "Looks that way at least. What a mess."

But Greg was still looking at the bird that seemed to be looking back.

"Greg?" Nick asked, just as the bird let out a loud 'caw'.

Greg jumped back into the wall causing the mirror behind him to come down with a crash.

"Now you've done it," Nick said, trying to lighten the situation. "That's seven years bad luck."

Greg finally looked away from the bird, inexplicably shaken, and to Nick. He managed a faint laugh and cracked a lame joke about it. That worked for Nick, who seemed to think that Greg was back to normal. But he wasn't really.

None of this seemed very funny.

* * *

Greg and Sara had agreed to meet for breakfast that morning, but she still hadn't shown up.

Sure, she'd called. She'd called almost an hour ago saying she was just going to stop by her house and change first. Greg had laughed and asked 'how bad' to which she'd sighed, which was all the answer he'd needed. He knew how messy scenes could get, but still he hadn't expected her to take this long.

Finishing his fourth cup of coffee Greg's phone finally rang; it was her.

"Did you get lost?" he asked jokingly.

"Can you come over?"

"What's wrong," Greg shot back, automatically rising to his feet and fishing for his wallet.

"Can you just… can you?"

"Of course," Greg agreed, putting down enough money to cover his tab and heading out the door. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

He arrived not more than fifteen minutes after hanging up with her.

Sara was standing outside her condo, waiting for him on the sidewalk.

"What happened?" he asked, almost before he'd gotten completely out of the car.

"It's nothing…nothing really," she tried, downplaying it as best she could.

Greg wasn't convinced. Sara looked shaken even if her words said otherwise.

"What…"

Before he could ask anything else, Brass was coming out the front door towards them both.

"We're done in there," he said to Sara, giving Greg a cursory glance. "We'll need you to make up a list of anything missing, you know the drill. Change the locks, of course, and call me if you need anything."

"Thanks," she muttered, with a small nod of her head.

Jim gave her the best smile he could manage, considering, and patted her on the shoulder before heading towards the street.

"You were robbed?" Greg asked, following Sara into her place pas the last two remaining officers leaving.

"I came home this morning and the door was just open," Sara said stoically. "I thought at first, maybe I didn't lock it, but then…"

She stopped and waved a hand through the living room that was in utter disarray. Sighing, she placed one of her couch cushions back into place before sitting down.

"I don't even know where to begin," she said, sounding as lost as she looked.

"Okay," Greg began, checking the door. "Well, Brass was right; you are going to need a new lock. But the door is intact, so it shouldn't be too hard to replace. I can go down and buy you one…"

"No," she said hastily. "No, can you stay? It's stupid and everything, but I don't want to be…"

"Yeah," he agreed, "of course I can stay. How about I call Nick. He's usually up for a few hours. Have him stop and bring one by?"

Sara just nodded as she stood up and began to fidget about the room.

Greg got in touch with Nick on the fifth ring. After quickly explaining the situation Nick readily agreed to help out. By the time he'd arrived, Greg and Sara had cleaned up most of the mess and had begun to take an inventory.

"Hello," Nick called from the door.

"Thanks for doing this," Sara began to say but Nick quickly shut her down.

"It's no problem," he returned while already working on replacing the lock. "Hope they didn't get much. First year I was here they about robbed me blind."

"So far," she answered, leaning against the back of the couch, "nothing. At least nothing I can see."

"What about the television?" Nick asked, pointing across the living room.

"Can you believe she doesn't own one?" Greg returned, joining them from the other room.

"Really?" Nick asked surprised.

"It's not that strange," Sara shot back, feeling much better than she had. She knew Greg had a lot to do with that; he'd spent the whole morning trying to put her back at ease. "Lots of people don't watch T.V."

"And yet you're the only one I know," Greg said smilingly.

"Everything looks here," Sara continued, deciding to ignore them both. "Besides my stereo the only other really valuable thing I own is my computer…"

"So you do own a computer at least," Nick interrupted, as he and Greg both erupted into huge grins.

"Shut up," Sara shot back good naturedly, rolling her eyes for effect. "Of course I have a computer. Luckily I had my gun with me, so I don't know what they could have taken."

"Well," Nick said having finished, "you're all set here. Best lock I could find, so you shouldn't have any more trouble."

"Thanks Nick," Sara said, standing back up.

"You going to be okay here today?" he asked.

Sara hesitated, with half a glance towards Greg before answering, "I'll be fine."

"Good," Nick said with a smile. "If you do need anything else…"

"I'll call," she assured him. "Bye."

"Bye, Sara," he called out. "Bye, Greg."

"Bye, Nick," Greg said from his spot in the kitchen.

Sara shut the door behind him and tried the new lock before sitting on the couch.

"Are you going to be okay?" Greg asked, joining her. "Alone?"

"I was hoping you might stay."

Greg felt his heart hit his throat, but fought it down.

"Sure," he said, trying to sound that way. "You know, just give me a pillow and a blanket and I'll be set out here."

"I'm sorry I've kept you up all morning," she said, absently touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "You look tired."

"I've looked worse," he replied, involuntarily leaning into her touch.

"You don't look bad," she returned, playfully rubbing her thumb across his chin. "You do need to shave though."

"I usually just wait…" Greg stopped mid-sentence, not sure what he was saying.

It was hard for him to concentrate with Sara sitting there, stroking his cheek, and looking so perfect. Looking at him in a way he'd never dreamed possible.

Nearly certain that at best she'd stop him and at worst she'd slap him, Greg made up his mind. Locking eyes with her he slipped closer, feeling her hand move effortlessly into his hair as their lips met.

The kiss was both eager and intense, leaving them both slightly self-conscious at the sheer need of it all when they finally broke apart.

Sara was neither looking at him nor letting go; Greg was just as reluctant to move.

"You know," Greg whispered hoarsely, his mouth mere inches from hers, "I could get use to this."

"So could I," Sara returned, her eyes finally fixed back on his.

It was the only thing he'd ever wanted to hear.


	17. Turmoil

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Slight revision, thanks RivenSky!

"_The closer and more confidential our relationship with someone, the less we are entitled to ask about what we are not voluntarily told."  
__**Louis Kronenberger**_

**Chapter 17: Turmoil**

A loud thud followed shortly by a muttered curse brought him round.

"Sorry," Sara half-whispered from the closet doorway. "I was trying not to disturb you."

"What time is it?" Greg asked groggily, propping himself up on his elbows and straining to see what she was up to.

"Almost nine," Sara answered, resting against the doorway.

Greg, believing her, checked the clock regardless before turning back to her with a surprised expression on his face.

Sara was fully dressed and looked as if she'd probably been awake for hours.

"I was going to wake you soon," she said sheepishly, "but you really did seem tired."

Greg nodded, rubbing his eyes and admitting it was true. It was the most sleep he'd gotten in weeks.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I slept," Sara answered, finally moving closer and sitting near him at the foot of the bed. "I just don't sleep much. Ever. Old habit."

Greg found himself nodding once more and could think of nothing else to say, not that he didn't have questions to ask.

He had plenty of questions.

Just nothing he could actually summon the courage to voice.

Sara wasn't speaking either, just nervously plucking strings off of the quilt that covered her bed.

"So," Greg finally said, "where are my clothes?"

"Oh," Sara said, jumping to her feet, "I washed them. I hope… I thought… here."

Sara took the neat pile she'd folded from the dresser and held them out to him from a considerable distance.

Greg took them with a weak smile.

"Can I use your shower?" he asked.

"Of course," Sara said again, her voice sounding sunny and false. "It's through there and the towels and everything are in the cabinet."

Greg nodded but didn't move and neither did Sara.

"I'm kind of naked here," Greg finally managed, flushing red and hating himself for it, "do you mind…"

"I'll be out here," Sara said quickly, retreating to the door. "Take your time."

Sara paused as if she had something more to say but decided against it, turning and leaving without another word.

Greg's mind was in turmoil.

Heading straight to the bathroom, he was hoping to collect himself but fairly certain that wasn't going to happen.

He'd never felt more conflicted in his life.

Sure, it was great. He felt great. Better then great, he felt amazing. But there were lots of other things he couldn't help but feel either.

Like guilty; guilty because it felt like he'd not only taken advantage of her, but of the situation.

Sara had obviously been upset, her place had just been robbed, and what does he do? He makes a pass at her.

It wasn't the type of thing he'd normally do and he felt bad.

It lessened it; it made him feel not only guilty, but awful and insecure. Because what if she'd just needed someone and he'd been the one here? What if this didn't mean to her what it did to him?

With that and more, all screaming through his head, Greg finished washing and dressed as slowly as he could, but he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever.

Reluctantly he made his way to her living room.

"I'm done," he called out rather lamely upon finding it empty.

"Okay," Sara returned, coming out of the kitchen. "I've made some pasta for dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," he said, checking his watch. "I've got to change before I go in tonight. It would look a little strange if I… you know… I've already come in once this week wearing the same shirt."

"No," Sara said, looking down and screwing up her face as if she wasn't bothered. "Of course."

"If you want," Greg began hesitantly, "we could go over to my place together and then head to the lab…"

"I'm not on tonight."

"Oh," Greg said, "well, that's… it was a stupid idea anyway."

"It was sweet."

Greg, blushing again, tried to cover it up by turning his head and rubbing his neck.

"I should… I should probably go then," he finally managed.

"Alright," Sara said, walking with him to the door where they both stood unmoving.

"Goodnight," they both said at the same time.

Unsure what to do, Greg leaned in just as Sara turned. Several awkward moves later, he hastily planted a kiss on her cheek before making his way out the door.

The door clicked shut softly behind him, leaving Greg alone in the night.

He stood there for several minutes, unsure of what to do and regretting how he'd acted.

He needed to explain. He needed to know exactly where she stood. He needed this to be alright between them.

So he went back.

Knocking briskly on the door, he still wasn't sure what he'd say just that it had better be good.

Sara, upon opening the door, looked surprised to see him again so soon.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said quickly. "I'm sorry about how I acted. I really can't explain it except that maybe I'm in shock."

Sara fixed him with an odd expression, one that clearly said she either didn't believe him or couldn't understand him. He knew the look well; she'd practically perfected it on him.

"Um… let me explain," he stammered. "Have you ever wanted something… no, um. Okay. When I was seven the only thing I wanted for Christmas was this super deluxe chemistry set, but my parents didn't think I was old enough and kept telling me no. So, Christmas comes around and…"

"Wait," Sara interrupted. "Are you comparing me with a chemistry set?"

"Not on purpose," Greg answered, the color draining from his face.

Sara said nothing more, just raised her eyebrows and continued to stare at him.

"Bad analogy," he continued quickly. "Sorry. What I was trying to say is that… I've wanted this to happen for so long and now that it has it doesn't seem real. It just feels like some kind of… you know… that I might just wake up and it will have never happened."

"Greg," she said, finally giving him a small smile.

"Or that I somehow made you…"

"You didn't make me," she cut in, nearly laughing. "I actually… kind of felt like I…"

"Are you kidding?" he asked so enthusiastically she had to laugh.

Greg relaxed, leaning into the doorframe just opposite Sara who mirrored the action. He felt better now, more like himself.

"Is that offer for dinner still open?" he asked with a huge smile.

"Um," she returned, "no."

"No?" Greg questioned, feeling confused once more.

"You don't have time for that," Sara said, smiling wickedly and pulling him to her for a searing kiss.

* * *

"You're an hour late," Nick hissed quietly as Greg sunk down in the chair beside him.

"I know," Greg said, looking quickly around the room. "Did anyone notice?"

Nick gave him a look of extreme disbelief before answering, "Of course they did."

"And?"

"And…"

"I'd like to talk to you," Grissom's voice called out from behind, startling them both. "Now."

Greg stood and followed without question. He knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. Grissom was the kind of boss that made you feel bad without yelling or demeaning. The kind of boss you didn't want to disappoint. Greg looked up to him, respected him, and just once wished he wasn't the one always getting these talks.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Greg began as soon as he shut the door.

Grissom, to his complete surprised, simply shrugged his shoulders and dismissed it completely.

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "Pull up a chair."

Greg, not for the first time that night, was confused.

"Detective Harper told you he was sending over the cold case files on those murder victims, right?"

"Yeah."

"I've been reading through them," Grissom continued. "I wasn't here when these took place, so I wanted to familiarize myself with them and I found something interesting."

Greg could see that familiar light shining in Grissom's eyes. He must have found not only found something interesting, but something good.

"When the last victim was found a witness came forward with information."

"An eye witness?"

"No," Grissom said, shaking his head, "a psychic one."

Greg looked at Grissom and shook his head.

"It couldn't be…" Greg said slowly, but already knowing that it was.

But Grissom was already nodding his head as Greg checked the file for himself.

Not surprised, not really at least, Greg found Henry Baker's name on the list of informants.


	18. Fate

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_There are many here among us  
who think life is but a joke  
but you and I, we've been through that;  
this is not our fate.  
Let us not speak falsely now, the hour's getting late."  
**Bob Dylan 'All Along the Watchtower'**_

**Chapter 18: Fate**

Greg didn't have a whole lot of time to stop and think about Henry Baker.

Being an hour late put him an hour behind, something he really couldn't afford to be with as many cases as he still had open. Not that Greg regretted why he was late, just the fact that he knew he'd have to make it up.

Plus, crime is never ending in Vegas and because of that, not long after his sit down with Grissom he found himself back in the field with a fresh case to start.

It wasn't until nearly the end of shift before he was back at the lab.

Spotting Sara in one of the spare layout rooms as he passed, he veered off towards her instead of his intended destination.

"I thought you weren't on tonight," he said brightly, coming as close to her as he thought she'd allow at work.

Sara looked up from a stack of very familiar papers and smiled.

"Well, I have a hard time staying away."

"I'll just pretend that's about me and not work," Greg returned with a grin.

"It might be," she admitted, before clearing her throat, "a little. But I actually did want to go through this again."

"Find anything new?" Greg asked, knowing it was Ashley's file she'd been reviewing.

"Kind of," Sara answered, business like again. "I think that all of these Post-it's Ashley had in her car might actually make a message. Watch."

Sara arranged several of the notes into a quick formation that read: 'SORRY' 'I' 'DID' 'NOT' 'WANT' '2' 'HURT' 'ANY' '1'

"I'm not sure that's what she meant," Sara admitted, "but it's a start. I've still got a dozen of these to try to put into place."

"So, no breakfast?" Greg asked.

"I can't…"

Before she could answer fully, Judy knocked lightly on the door.

"Greg," she said, her voice always quiet. "The mail just came and this came for you."

"Thanks," Greg said, taking the large manila envelope and looking perplexed. "Anne's probably suing me."

Sara shook her head with a smile, but knew it wasn't true. All that was in it was a single piece of spiral binder paper and another envelope.

"Huh," Greg said, sitting down on the edge of the table looking perplexed.

"Is she suing you?" Sara asked seriously.

"No," Greg said, turning the envelope over in his hand to check the return address. "It's from Ashley."

"What?" Sara said, moving so that she too could read the note.

"Dear Greg," he read. "I'm sure you understand why I'm asking this of you, but could you please give this letter to my father. I want him to understand too. Thank you, Ashley."

Greg turned the note over, hoping for more but knowing better to expect anything.

"Well?"

"Well," Greg returned, "I guess I can."

"Seriously?" Sara asked; she'd been certain he wasn't going to do it.

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "I kind of have too, don't I?"

"No," Sara shook her head, "you don't. Send it through the mail."

"A letter like this? No, you don't send a letter to a man from his dead daughter through the mail."

Sara knew he was right about that, but it still didn't feel right.

"Do you even have his address?" Sara asked, hoping to stop him some other way.

"Yeah, it's on the release forms."

She nodded shortly.

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Greg admitted, "but… it won't take too long. And I can ask him…"

"Ask him what?" Sara cut in quickly.

Greg hesitated. He'd planned on telling Sara about Henry Baker being in the Highwayman files, but not like this.

"It's nothing," he quickly covered. "Just a few more questions about Ashley."

Sara scrutinized him, clearly not convinced, but let it go.

"So where does he live?" Sara asked instead.

"Indian Springs."

"That will take more than a few hours," Sara sighed. She'd wanted to go with him, but couldn't. She had a routine physical scheduled for this morning; it was why she couldn't make breakfast with him.

"I'll call you as soon as I'm back in town," he said, sensing her discomfort.

"You'd better," she warned. "And keep your phone on, please?"

Greg, very tempted to kiss her, settled instead on giving her a smile before heading out the door.

* * *

Indian Springs wasn't more than an hour's drive, but it felt longer. Greg knew why, it was the desert. Being in the desert; even if he was on a highway in a car with a destination. It was too empty, the complete opposite of Vegas. It felt strange; it felt like he was heading into oblivion.

Still, Greg made very good time. He arrived in the tiny town, not much more than a dusty pit stop, and easily found the road he needed to travel to Henry Baker's ranch address.

Parking and taking a moment to consider what he'd say exactly, Greg got out of his car and headed for the house, but not before turning off his cell phone. He knew Sara would understand him having it off for a few minutes while making a visit like this. It wasn't exactly a great time for him to get another angry call from his sister.

After knocking for several minutes, he peeked through the window and saw only an empty house. Not satisfied that Mr. Baker wasn't home, seeing as a truck was parked out front, Greg proceeded to the back of the house and out towards a large barn that sat beside a rather nice flower garden and had both its doors open.

"Mr. Baker," he called out, seeing the older man at work nearby on a jigsaw.

He stopped and looked up with no small amount of surprise.

"Mr. Sanders, right?" he asked, shutting the machine off and coming over to him. "From the crime lab."

"That's right sir," Greg returned, shaking the offered hand.

"What can I do for you today?" he asked. "Are you here to return Ashley's things?"

"No, sir, we're still looking through them right now."

"Still haven't found it then?"

"No," Greg confirmed. "Not yet. But we're working on it."

Henry Baker just nodded slowly, as if judging the truth of that statement.

"I'm actually here because I got this in the mail today," Greg began, "along with a note. They're from Ashley. She wanted me to give it to you."

Greg handed the letter over to Mr. Baker who seemed, if anything, reluctant to take it. Once he did have it in his hands, he stared blankly at it for a few minutes. Greg thought he could understand that.

Finally, he opened it.

Greg noticed that the pages looked similar to the one he'd received, like they were torn from a notebook, but nothing more. He discretely looked away as Mr. Baker read his letter.

"She sent this to you?" he asked numbly, once he'd finished.

"Yes, sir," Greg answered. "Here's the note."

Greg passed him the other paper, the one that had been addressed to him, and saw the man pale.

"Will you excuse me for a moment," he asked, if possible paler than he had been before. "I think I need a drink of water."

"Of course," Greg returned, growing concerned and wondering if he should perhaps accompany him. "Do you need…"

"No, no," he objected straight away, "I'll manage. You just stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

Greg watched the older man walk off before turning to survey his surroundings. It looked more like a workshop than a barn. There were no animals just various woodworking machines as it appeared Mr. Baker was in the habit of building. There was no sign that it was an active ranch. No hay, no farming implements; in fact, the horse stalls looked as if they'd been converted for extra storage.

Glancing over it all, Greg turned back quickly, as one color stuck out among the browns that dominated the walls.

It was blue.

Checking to see that Henry was really gone, without hesitation Greg walked over for a closer look.

It was a toy chest.

The toy chest was an older one, real wood, white with a primary blue lid. It looked old, very old, like it might have been bought at an antique store or passed down within the family. But that wasn't the only thing he'd noticed.

Painted on the blue lid were the words 'Bloo the Travelin' Circus Clown' written underneath Bloo himself.

He had to open it.

Greg used his pocket flashlight to open the lid, having no gloves on hand. Kneeling down to view the contents without having to pick them up, he wasn't sure what he'd find but knowing this had to be what Ashley had wanted him to see. It had to be. It fit so well.

The very first thing he saw, the item right on top of everything else, wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but was still a shock.

Forgetting protocol, Greg picked it up and stared.

It was the newspaper photo that Ashley had pinned up at her apartment. The very same one except in this one, instead of Greg being circled, Sara was.

He couldn't comprehend it.

And he didn't have time too.

"She told you then?"

Greg was on his feet and spun round before the question was finished.

"Told me…"

But the words faded from his lips.

It wasn't every day you faced a man with a gun.


	19. Answers

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_He who asks questions, cannot avoid the answers."_

_**African Proverb**_

**Chapter 19: Answers**

Sara, with only half an hour until she definitely had to leave for her appointment, couldn't pull herself away from the job at hand.

She was almost done, she could feel it.

Ashley had a really strange way of communicating with them, but Sara was catching on.

"You're either here really late," Warrick said with a smile from the doorway, "or really early. And I'm not counting out either."

"Well," Sara returned with a smile of her own, "since I didn't technically work last night, I guess I'm early for tonight."

"This about the Baker case?" he asked in a quieter voice, stepping inside and shutting the door.

"Yes and I think I am done," Sara finished, putting the last note in place and surveying her work.

Laid out on the table, it read:

'I AM SORRY 4 WHAT I DID'

'PLZ FOR GIVE ME'

'I DID NOT WANT 2 HURT ANY 1'

'I HOPE U UNDER STAND'

"Okay," Warrick replied, "but that's not really breaking the case or anything."

"No," Sara admitted, "but check this out."

Sara proceeded to flip the notes over one by one, each containing a new letter, number or word on its back.

Now it read:  
'2 1 8 9 S C A'

'N Y O N'

'R O A D B O X 208'

'27 – 42 – 108'

"What's that?" Warrick asked.

"I'm not sure," Sara admitted.

"Well, that last part looks like a combination. And it says 'box two-oh-eight' so that might be a locker?"

"Or a post office box," Sara said, suddenly feeling this was much more serious.

Warrick fixed her with a look.

"Greg got a letter today from Ashley," she continued. "She wanted him to give a letter to her father. Maybe…"

"What?"

Sara turned to the nearest computer and pulled up MapQuest and began typing.

"Sara," Warrick asked again, "what is it?"

"I was just thinking that she probably thought we'd find this sooner. She had to have known we'd pick apart her car, and all of this was in it. What if we were supposed to find this first."

She turned the monitor towards Warrick revealing the final location of 2189 S. Canyon Road.

"A post office?"

"Exactly," Sara answered. "She said 'give' not 'take'. She wanted Greg to give the letter to her father… Are you doing anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait," Warrick answered immediately.

"I think we need to go see what's in box two-oh-eight."

* * *

"I thought you were looking into that," Henry Baker said, his voice shaky as he pointed to the chest Greg had left open. "I didn't…"

"Mr. Baker," Greg said as calmly as he could, holding his hand up partially in the 'non-threatening' manner he'd been taught. "Whatever it is…"

"I knew Ashley must have known something about it… how she died and all… but not…"

Henry Baker hardly seemed aware of Greg's presence. He was almost talking to himself.

"Did she tell you how she found out? Did she really…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Greg answered, a part-truth.

Henry looked at him and knew. Some people were like that, they could read the lie on a face as easy as they could any book. And Greg had never been a good liar.

"Lydia Juarez," he practically yelled, waving his hands and the gun for emphasis.

"Please calm down," Greg said quietly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in through the shock.

"I should have known when you said she was a witness. I should have… usually I can tell better than that. I guess I hoped you were wrong."

"Was it in her journals?" he asked as he began to pace. "Was it?"

"Lydia wasn't mentioned by name."

"But you found out…"

"I really…"

"You found out," he yelled again, interrupting Greg before he could finish.

"Yes," Greg answered back loudly, unable to keep his voice entirely steady. "We found out she'd been missing and we assumed she was dead."

"Because of the journal."

"Because of the journal," Greg repeated.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be repeating the details of any unsolved crime under ordinary circumstances, but this didn't exactly qualify as ordinary. There was no choice here.

"So she saw," Henry said sadly. "She saw."

He finally stopped pacing and sat down on a nearby chair, placing his head in his hands as if he'd developed a migraine.

Greg stood stock still, his mind racing.

"I killed her," Henry finally said, speaking just above a whisper. "It was an accident, but still, I did it."

Henry was looking right at Greg now, commanding his full attention.

"She'd come to me and asked about her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Tommy, he'd been killed a year before. She'd heard that I could… well, that's not important."

He was back on his feet again, pacing the same spot as before.

"For whatever reason, she decided that I was a fraud. I think her brother might have said something, I don't know. She came her one afternoon, angry and demanding her money back. I tried to explain that that wasn't how I worked. I didn't give refunds. She wouldn't listen."

Henry stopped again, staring down Greg once more.

"She attacked me first. Right here. Right on this spot. I pushed her off of me… I pushed her so hard that she fell…"

He looked to his left where one of the stalls, now defunct, stood.

"We used to have horses. Horses and hay. She fell there and landed on a pitchfork that had been left out."

Greg found himself staring with Henry at the spot as if he'd see the body. As if he could still see the body.

"I probably could have saved her. Gotten help. She didn't die right away, but I panicked. I panicked."

Greg couldn't speak, he'd never come here expecting this.

"I never knew she'd seen it. She'd never said anything… not once. Maybe I just hoped she hadn't. She was only a little girl then, barely eight. And already so special. I should have known."

"What did you…" Greg tried, his voice strangely altered. "Where is she…"

"I buried her," Henry answered before he'd even finished the question. "In the flower garden in front of this barn. I know it wasn't a proper resting place, but it's the best I could do."

Greg nodded; understanding but not wanting to.

"What about the others," Greg asked, finally finding his voice. "What about them? Were they accidents too?"

Henry eyes fixed him with an odd gaze.

"Them?" he questioned back. "Well, they are what they are."

"So why…."

"I can't explain any of that," Henry said dismissively. "I'd given up on it a long time ago. Would have completely, but…but that woman. I saw her and I knew."

Greg wanted to ask who he meant, but the sudden cold sensation that filled him knew better. He already knew who Henry meant.

"The monster is awake," Henry said softly.

He stopped and wiped his brow. Henry seemed composed again. He was no longer pacing or fidgeting. He was just staring at him intently. Greg knew what that meant, it was another part of his training he'd hoped he'd never need.

Henry had decided what he was going to do next.

"We can't change who we are," Henry said, his voice quiet but steady. "Life offers us choices, every day, and every day we get to decide. But ultimately, we can't change. We are who we are."

Greg shook his head slowly, not daring to shut his eyes.

"Turn around please."

Greg shook his head again, more forcefully.

"I won't make this easy for you," Greg said, and he meant it. If this was it, he wanted to at least see it coming.

"I'm trying to make it easy for you," Henry retorted, for the first time holding the gun level at him.

Reluctantly, Greg listened and did what he was told to do.

"I want you to know that I'm sorry," Henry said as he cocked the gun.

His heart was beating so loud he could hear it. This was it. This was all there was. Staring down at that stupid toy chest, wishing he'd never seen it. That he'd never known any of this.

"Do you know how we know when it's the end Mr. Sanders?" Henry asked. To his credit, he almost sounded sad.

"Greg," he returned, trying the last tactic he could think of. Humanize the victim. "My name is Greg."

"Greg then," Henry said. "Do you?"

"No," he managed, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his fists in anticipation.

"It's blue," Henry said, answering his own question. "In the end, all you'll see is blue."

It was the last thing Greg heard.


	20. Shock

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks Jen! Homonyms are not my friends.

"_Truth makes many appeals, not the least of which is its power to shock."  
__**Jules Renard**_

**Chapter 20: Shock**

_I hope now you understand why. Why I could never tell you. Why I could never say it out loud. _

_I just can't live with it. Not anymore._

_  
He's my father and I love him, but I guess I never really knew him._

_I wish you didn't have to be involved…_

"Can't we go faster?" Sara asked for the third time as they barreled down the highway towards Indian Springs.

"We're almost there," Warrick assured her.

Sara shook her head and began to stare out the window as the desert scenery zipped past, momentarily putting aside the letter they'd found at that post office box.

That damn letter.

Why did Ashley do this? Why didn't she just tell them?

Of course, part of her knew why. Ashley loved her dad. It couldn't have been easy. And she couldn't just accuse him of being a serial killer; she had no real proof.

Except for Lydia.

Ashley had witnessed Lydia Juarez's murder.

Sara opened the letter again; already well on her way to having it memorized.

_I was outside the barn when I heard their voices…_

_I peeked through the boards and saw him standing over her; there was a lot of blood…_

_The next day he planted a garden…_

"He'll be fine," Warrick said, interrupting Sara's thoughts. "We don't even know what the other letter said yet."

"This one says her father killed four people, what do you think the other one says?"

Before Warrick answered Sara went on.

"I mean, the note even said she wanted him to understand. She wanted her father to understand why she'd done this. And he was why. Damn it, Greg just walked into this…"

Sara stopped abruptly, clearing her throat and fixing her gaze back out the window.

"I knew this woman was trouble," Sara continued, mostly to herself. "I knew it. And Greg trusted her… for no reason at all…"

Warrick cast another glance her way. He understood her frustration, some of it at least, but he'd never seen Sara this worried before.

"He'll be fine," Warrick repeating, hoping it was true.

It had to be. He didn't think Sara would be able to keep it together if it wasn't; she was barely doing that now.

Before Sara could reply, they both caught sight of flashing lights in the rear view mirror.

No sooner than it had registered what they were seeing, four police cruisers and an ambulance went racing past them.

The two of them watched in silence as all of the emergency vehicles took the same turn they'd intended to. All of them were headed straight into Indian Springs.

"Go faster," Sara said quietly.

Warrick nodded as he flipped on his own emergency lights and punched the accelerator in an effort to catch up.

It didn't take long for them to get there, but they still arrived well after everyone else.

Sara hardly waited for the car to stop before jumping out.

Time had practically stopped and she felt like she was moving through molasses.

She hurried past Greg's car, still parked out front and horribly empty.

She rounded the corner, passing the cop who was just beginning to roll out the crime tape, hurriedly showing him identification that granted her access.

She passed two paramedics, headed away from the barn, one shaking his head and saying, "…took his head clean off."

She paused only as she neared the entrance, her eyes caught by the flower garden out front; exactly where Ashley said it would be.

And for a moment that stretched out into eternity, she paused.

Sara had been dreading this; this final moment where one way or another she'd know.

Coming into the barn she saw the body and nothing else. Already covered and laying spread out on the dirt floor.

It was as if that body was all there was left of the world.

A gently tug on her elbow brought her back, back to reality.

"I told you," Warrick said.

Sara turned to him, stunned. She hadn't realized he'd even been there.

"Told me…"

But Sara didn't have to finish, she saw for herself.

He was there.

Greg was there, in the back of the barn talking to two police officers. He looked rattled, she could see that even from where she stood, but he was alright. He was really alright.

"Come on," Warrick said, tugging her arm once more, "let's go over…"

But Sara wouldn't do it. She pulled her arm out of his grasp, shook her head adamantly, turned and left.

She got about twenty feet from the door before Warrick caught up.

"Sara," he said cautiously, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

She shrugged him off, turning her back to him. With her left arm hugging her own torso, her right hand reached up, shaking, as she rubbed her forehead in gesture that seemed one part relief another frustration.

"Are you okay?" Warrick asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaky. "I just need a minute."

He didn't ask anything more, just took a few steps backwards and gave her some space.

Sara was grateful, but still struggling. She was determined not to cry. It would be stupid to cry. Greg was fine. There was no reason to be acting this way. She couldn't do this now. Or ever. She wouldn't let herself.

Taking a few deep breaths she was ready.

He was fine; Greg was really okay.

Turning back round, she walked past Warrick and towards the barn again without saying anything.

"You don't have to go back inside," Warrick offered, but one backwards look in his direction was all he needed. Sara was determined. Whatever spasm of emotion she'd had was gone, her game face was back in place.

Crossing over the threshold cost her a momentary loss of that new found composure, a brief flicker of distress, but nothing more. It was hardly noticeable. She was determined.

Sara headed straight across the room this time, Warrick falling in step beside her, towards Greg.

Greg didn't notice them at first. He looked over at them as they approached, but with no sign of recognition. It wasn't until they were standing beside him that Greg seemed to even know who they were. Even then, he did nothing more than give them a weak smile.

"What was I saying," Greg asked the officer who he'd been speaking to, crossing his arms as he did so.

"The garden," the man prompted.

"That's right," Greg picked up, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists repeatedly. "He told me… he said that, that he'd buried her in the flower garden. The one in front of the barn… um… outside."

Sara, without thinking or hesitating, quickly took Greg's nearest hand into hers. It was probably more for her comfort than his. His constant movement was making her uneasy for him. Greg didn't look right.

Warrick was thinking the same thing. Without saying a word he left for a few minutes and returned with a blanket.

"He's done," Warrick said to the officer. "You can talk to him later."

"Wait a minute…" the officer started, but Warrick ignored him.

"Sit down, Greg," he said instead and without waiting for a reply led him to the nearest chair and made him do it.

Sara took the blanket from him and placed it around Greg, reluctantly letting go of his hand for the moment it took to accomplish the task.

"You can't just stop an interview," the police officer said, clearly angry.

"He's in shock," Warrick fired back, just as mad. "You're not going to get anything out of him now that he can't tell you later. Give him a few minutes. Did the paramedics even check him out?"

"No but…"

"But nothing," Warrick interrupted.

"What's going on here?"

Warrick looked over with something like relief. Brass had arrived. At least now they knew this thing would be investigated properly.

"He just broke up my interview," the officer said.

Brass looked at Warrick who stared back unapologetically, before looking over to where Greg sat beside Sara.

"Do you know what happened here?" he asked Warrick.

"Not everything," he answered. "But since Greg doesn't own a gun, I imagine suicide."

Brass nodded; he'd assumed that himself. Of course, it wasn't his job to assume anything.

"Is that what he told you," Brass asked the officer, before asking somewhat sarcastically "or did you get that far yet?"

"Well… yes. He did tell me that. That the deceased, Henry Baker, had held him at gunpoint before turning the gun on himself."

"So you got his initial statement, and what, decided to do my job as well?"

"No sir…"

"Then I think you're done," Brass said, ending the conversation. "Thanks."

The officer gave Warrick one last contemptuous look before departing.

"You okay, Sanders," Brass asked, stepping over to him.

"Yeah," Greg answered, but his voice sounded oddly detached. "I'm… I'm fine. Do you need me…"

"Go home," he cut in.

"But…"

"Go home," Brass insisted. "Get some rest. Come back tonight. We'll talk then."

Greg stood to go, but didn't. He looked lost. Warrick was definitely right, Greg was in shock.

"Sara," Brass spoke up once more, "do you think you can give him a ride?"

She just nodded, glad to have the excuse.

"You sure you got this?" Warrick asked, concerned for more than just Greg.

"Yeah," Sara said firmly. "I'm fine."

Warrick nodded reluctantly, still not completely convinced but not willing to argue it.

Sara led Greg off towards his car as Brass and Warrick looked on. She didn't speak to him until they got to their destination.

"I need the keys."

He said nothing, just reached blindly into his pocket for them, before climbing in on the passenger's side.

The ride back was equally silent. Sara didn't know what to say and Greg almost seemed incapable of speech which was frightening all by itself. He spent his time just staring out the window in the same fashion Sara had on the way out.

Finally they pulled up to his apartment.

"Do you want me to come up?" Sara asked.

He didn't answer, just sat there and stared at his hands which were clenched once more.

"Greg?" Sara called out becoming more and more concerned, wondering if perhaps she should have taken him to the hospital.

"You could have been killed," he said quietly.

"Greg I… wait, what?"

"You could have been killed," he repeated, louder this time and finally looking away from his hands that were still shaking. "You were going to come with me. I can't stop thinking about it. You were going to come with me and if you had…"

"I didn't go, Greg," she said, reaching up quickly to wipe her eyes which had threatened to tear. "You can't… all I've been thinking about is you. You were… if it… Damn it."

Sara stopped short and tried to pull herself together again.

"But this is my fault," Greg said before she could begin again. "If I'd have been killed…"

"Don't…"

"No," Greg cut in again, suddenly sure of himself. "No, if I had it would have been my own fault. I never thought about where this thing was going. I wasn't prepared. It was stupid and…"

"Greg please…"

"…I should have known better, but I didn't. I didn't think. And now all I can think about is that if you'd have come with me he would have killed you. Because of me. You'd be dead because of…"

"Stop," Sara interjected forcefully. "Just stop it. You can't do this to yourself."

Greg nodded his head as he looked away, but not really in agreement but more so that he'd have something to do.

"I was just… I was so…"

He couldn't finish and he didn't need to. Sara already knew.

"I was too."

Greg turned and looked at her before touching her gently on the cheek and smiling gratefully. And Sara couldn't hold it back any longer.

She finally let herself cry.


	21. Normal

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal."  
__**Albert Camus**_

**Chapter 21: Normal**

"Is that it then?"

Grissom alone looked over and nodded; the others were too deep in conversation to bother.

Greg, not wanting to hear anymore, got up and quickly left.

Grissom had called and arranged the interview. He'd sounded like he was willing to put it off, but Greg wasn't. All in all, he'd rather get it over with.

Sara hadn't been happy about that, or about the fact that he'd said virtually nothing more to her about the encounter than he had on the ride home, but she'd relented. Reluctantly relented. He knew that she was going to continue to pepper him with questions; he'd just have to deal with them as they came.

Greg made it out to his car before checking his watch, surprised to find that his shift was about to start.

It had taken three hours, three whole hours, to go through it all. Everything. Brass, Ecklie, Harper and Grissom had wanted all of the details, not just about Henry Baker but about Ashley too and Greg hadn't held back.

It was almost cathartic.

Almost.

No one in there wanted to know how he felt about any of this, they just wanted the facts. It felt robotic. Talking about it was like telling a lie. It didn't feel real; it didn't feel like it had happened at all. And really, that was just fine.

He didn't want to talk about it; he wanted to forget it.

Even though Grissom had told him to take the night off, Greg decided he'd rather work. He figured he'd get there in time to catch some of the pre-shift meeting.

Just as he got into the lobby his phone rang.

"What now Anne?" he asked into it, shaking his head.

He normally wouldn't have taken her call, but was glad he did. It gave him an excuse not to stop and talk to anyone along the way; a reason not to meet their eyes.

Stopping in front of the break room, he quickly ended the conversation and hesitated a moment.

It was a moment too long; Bobby caught sight of him from across the hall and waved him over.

"What's up?" Greg asked as casually as he could.

"I got a lead on that triple homicide on Blue Diamond today," Bobby said, steering him back towards his desk.

"Really," Greg said, sounding both relieved and surprised at the news. "You got a name out of the database or…"

"Well," Bobby interrupted, "it's not that good."

"But it's something."

"It's definitely something," Bobby returned. "I've got a friend in San Bernardino who does ballistics. She compared our results against all of their unsolved crimes that matched the MO and came up with a match. Another robbery turned homicide."

"And?" Greg asked hopefully.

"And they got clean fingerprints at that scene, but no match yet."

"Are we running those locally?"

"Mandy is running them now."

"Not Jacqui?" Greg asked, sounding skeptical. Mandy was good at her job, but Jacqui was better.

"She's still on days," Bobby returned, shaking his head.

Greg shrugged and looked over towards the break room.

"Am I keeping you from something?" Bobby asked, concerned.

"Nah," Greg said with a shake of head. "I'm not even on tonight. I just thought…"

Bobby seemed on the verge of saying something, but Greg quickly interrupted him.

"So, you've got a girlfriend in the San Bernardino office?"

Bobby laughed and rolled his eyes.

"I said I have a friend."

"That's a girl."

"Greg," Bobby said in his most patient voice.

"What?" Greg asked.

"Are you looking for a girlfriend, is that it? I can introduce you to her if you want."

"I don't need a girlfriend, I've already…"

Greg stopped short, but it was too late. Bobby was already smirking at him.

"…I've already got too much going on…"

Bobby just shook his head and laughed.

"I'm not buying it, Sanders. Spill. Who is it? Do I know her? Does she work here? She must or else you'd have told everyone by now."

"No," Greg said shaking his head and looking down, the blush already creeping up his neck. "No. I really don't have…"

"It's not Mandy, she hates you."

"Thanks," Greg retorted. "She and Hodges can start a club."

"They already have. They meet on Wednesdays," Bobby shot back. "Wendy?"

"Bobby you're wasting your time. I don't…"

"I know, it's that cute little Chinese tech on days, isn't it? She told Jacqui she thought you were cute. What's her name? Annie?"

"I don't know…wait… she thinks I'm cute?"

Bobby laughed.

"Okay," Greg said shaking his head vehemently, "it's not important because I'm not seeing anyone from work. Or anywhere. At all. Alright?"

"If you say so," Bobby answered skeptically.

"I do," Greg said firmly, but couldn't help smiling a bit. "And so do you, if anyone asks."

Greg turned and saw that the break room door was still shut.

"Thanks for the info on the case," Greg said heading towards the door. "I'm going to try to catch the last half of that meeting. Let me know if anything else comes up please."

"Will do," Bobby said, waving to him once before getting back to work himself.

Greg made it across the room but stopped just short of opening the door upon hearing his name said from the other side of it.

"You can't take Greg out of the field, Catherine," he heard Warrick saying.

"I'm not talking permanently," she countered. "Just for a few weeks until…"

"Until what?" Nick asked, cutting her off short. "He adjusts? Catherine, he's not going to adjust in the lab. We all know that these situations come with the job. Greg's going to either have to deal with it or…"

There was a heavy pause in which Greg could easily picture Nick shrugging, knowing very well what was left unsaid. He would either have to deal with it or quit.

He heard Catherine sigh before she asked, "What do you think?"

"I think," he heard Sara clearly, "that we shouldn't even be talking about this."

Her words seemed to strike them all. Greg couldn't help but smile a bit.

"And," she continued, "if any of you have a problem going out on calls with Greg, then I will."

"I've already said I don't," Warrick chipped in.

"Me either," Nick added.

"You know I don't," Catherine said, sensing the comment had been primarily aimed at her, "I just… I'd feel better if he'd carry a gun…"

Greg, determined to give them no further chance to talk behind his back, made as much noise as he could in grabbing and turning the doorknob, forcing his way inside.

"Hey," he said, as the four of them looked over with varying degrees of surprise on their faces. "Sorry I'm late."

Greg sat down in the nearest chair and tried to look normal.

"We were just wrapping up," Catherine said, getting to her feet. "Gil is… well, you know. Um. Okay. Everyone got their assignments?"

Nick and Warrick stood as well, nodding as they went. Sara said nothing and hadn't moved.

"Where do you want me tonight?" Greg asked, cutting off Catherine before she reached the door.

"Why don't you go with Sara," she said after a pause, leaving immediately afterwards.

Greg turned and looked at Sara, who was still sitting and giving him a shrewd look.

"You heard."

He only shrugged in return, before joining her on the couch.

"Catherine was just trying…"

Greg stopped her by shaking his head and turning partially away. He just wasn't interested in hearing it.

"You really should carry a gun though," Sara said after a heavy pause.

"We've talked about this before," he barely whispered.

"When?"

"When I first started going into the field," Greg answered, turning back to her.

Sara paused, thinking it over, before finally remembering it.

"I don't want that kind of responsibility," he said quietly.

"I understand that," she said, "I really do. But, you need to think about yourself."

"Sara I can…"

"Okay then, think about me," she cut in quickly.

"I…"

"I was scared to death today," Sara continued without pause. "You had no way to protect yourself. None. And I knew that the whole drive out. It was all I could think about, Greg."

"Sara…"

"Just consider it."

"I will," he promised.

"Good," she said crisply, not willing to let her emotions out any more than she already had. "Let's get going. We've got a murder-suicide across town to get to."

Greg caught her at the doorway, taking hold of her shoulder and turning her gently back to face him.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," he said, smiling a real smile for the first time all night.

"Well," she said, a smile tugging at her own lips, "I'd say 'that will teach you to ease drop' but I doubt it will."

"You know me," he returned, moving his hand down her shoulder to her elbow. "I can't help it if I'm curious."

"Yeah," Sara said, smiling broader now, "just remember what happened to the cat."

She turned to go, letting his hand slide down the remainder of her arm and squeezing it once with her own before she did. Greg stood there for a brief moment, feeling for the first time that things really could get back to normal. That they actually would get back to normal.

Moving out of the door now himself, not wanting to keep Sara waiting, he turned and started down the hall just catching Bobby out of the corner of his eye; stopping dead when he did.

Bobby, who'd been watching the entire exchange, was positively grinning as he gave him an exaggerated thumbs up.

Greg kept walking, head down, feeling mortified.

Forget curiosity, Sara was going to kill him.


	22. Observation

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks RivenSky and Tripp3235 for the help! Oh and TakeDown2 gets the special prize for finding Amy! Also, change made... thanks Kristafied.

"_Never assume the obvious is true."  
__**William Safire**_

**Chapter 22: Observation**

"Detective Brass was looking for you earlier."

Both Greg and Sara stopped at Judy's desk, having just gotten back from their scene.

"Is he still here?" Greg asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "I think he's in Dr. Grissom's office."

"Thanks," Greg returned, starting on his way again.

"He probably just wants to let you know about the investigation," Sara tried assuring him.

"Or interrogate me some more."

"Was it that bad?"

"You ever have a root canal?"

Sara grabbed hold of his arm and turned him towards her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, hoping the seriousness of her voice would compel him to respond in kind.

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying your fine but…"

"Because I am," he cut in.

Sara sighed.

Seeing she wasn't going to be convinced until they had this out, Greg pulled her into the nearest available room and shut the door behind them.

"Yes," he began, "I was scared. I was petrified. I didn't think I was going to make it out of there, but I did. And I'm okay."

"Yes but…"

"No buts," he cut in again. "I don't need hand holding or coddling or anything like that. I just need everyone to let me do my job."

"Greg, that's fine. I understand that. But I thought you could at least talk to me… tell me…"

"I want to," he admitted, "but I'm going to need some time first. Sara, this is all pretty new still with us. Not that it isn't great but… I don't know… I'm not used to just sharing things like this with anyone else."

"Me either," Sara echoed, understanding him very well.

"And, you know, I've never had anything like this happen to me before. I've never had a gun…"

Greg left the rest unsaid.

"I'm just saying that you can tell me. That I want you to trust… what?"

He had turned around as she was talking, waving her off for silence.

"What?" she repeated.

"Huh," was all he said, but not in response to her.

"Greg, what is it?"

"He didn't hold the gun on me the whole time."

"I don't understand."

"Only at the end," Greg went on. "Just when he told me to turn around."

"What are you saying?" Sara asked, understanding only in part.

"I don't think he was ever going to shoot me."

"Did you tell Brass this?"

"No," Greg said, shaking his head and still trying to visualize it in his head. "I didn't. I didn't think about it then."

Sara looked like she wanted to say more but Greg already had his hand on the door, ready to go. A quick walk took them both to Grissom's office where Greg tapped twice on the door before uncharacteristically letting himself in.

"Sorry," he said immediately, surprising both Grissom and Brass.

"No, it's alright," Grissom returned, waving both Greg and Sara further inside.

Sara hesitated a moment, not sure if she should join them, but Greg turned back to her and smiled expectantly making it much easier to continue.

"I was looking for you anyway," Brass said, turning in his chair towards Greg.

"Judy told us," Greg said, with a nod. "And I needed to talk to you. I think I need to change my statement."

"Change your statement?" Grissom echoed unbelievingly.

"Not drastically," Greg returned. "I just… Sara and I were talking about it and I remembered something…"

"New details?" Brass interrupted, notebook already in hand. "Something he told you?"

"No," Greg answered, "but, okay it sounds like nothing, I know this and I'm not trying to rationalize this in my head or anything like that…"

"Greg," Grissom cut in.

"Sorry," Greg said instinctively, knowing exactly by Grissom's tone he'd been rambling. "I realized that he never really held the gun on me."

"What do you mean?" Brass asked.

"I mean that I don't think he'd planned on hurting me at all. And why not? I was alone. I was unarmed. I wasn't there on official business and for all he knew, no one knew where I was. He got away with Lydia Juarez's murder for fifteen years, so why didn't he think he'd get away with mine?"

Grissom and Brass exchanged looks that were easily read by the other two. They'd been discussing that very thing.

"It's perplexing," Grissom said.

"Do Ecklie and Harper still think Henry Baker was responsible for the Highwayman murders?" Greg asked.

Sara already knew about this. Catherine had briefed them all at the shift meeting prior to Greg's arrival.

"It's looking like it," Brass answered. "And that's why I wanted to talk to you. Those papers you found at his place, did you touch any of them?"

Greg blushed a bit as he nodded his affirmative.

"With or without gloves?"

"I didn't have my gloves with me," Greg admitted, fixing his gaze on Brass so as to avoid both Grissom and Sara who were likely to berate him equally.

"Do you remember which ones you touched?"

"Just the newspaper on top."

Brass nodded, having written a few notes about it, but asked nothing more.

"Alright," Brass said standing, "I've got to get back to the station. Harper's fighting me tooth and nail over this case as it is. He doesn't get much action down in cold cases, but that's why he's there."

Greg perked up at this.

"Nerves," Brass explained without being asked. "Happens to the best of us, and well, even the not so best. See you all later."

After Brass left, Greg and Sara lingered in the office a moment longer.

"Do you think it's closed?" Greg asked Grissom.

"If the evidence supports that Henry Baker did kill these other women then…"

He left the rest unsaid, just settled back in his chair and threw up his hands. But it was what he didn't say that resonated most with both of them.

If Grissom thought he was guilty, he'd have said so.

* * *

Greg and Sara didn't get a chance to talk about it any more. That night turned out to be busier than usual. Sara was called out on two different scenes and Greg was still swimming in unsolved cases.

At the end of the night Greg hung around for her in the locker room, glad when she turned up only fifteen minutes late.

"So," he began, sitting beside her as she put her things away, "I was thinking…."

The door opened and Greg immediately clamed up.

Bobby walked past the two of them, smiling as he headed to his locker.

"Hi Sara," he called out, "Greg."

"Long night?" Sara asked him.

"Yes," he nodded, putting his own things away, "but at least its over."

Sara laughed and then turned back to Greg, "What were you saying?"

"Um… I was just…"

"Goodnight guys," Bobby said, waving as he headed out the door.

Greg let out a sigh of relief causing Sara to look at him strangely.

"What?"

"It's nothing… well, okay. Bobby might, just might know that you and I are 'you and I'."

"And?"

"And?" Greg repeated.

"Yeah, and…."

"You don't have a problem with that?"

"Why would I?"

"Because," Greg answered, "you didn't want your lives colliding, remember? Work life. Personal life. Sound familiar?"

"I didn't mean…Greg, people are going to find out. I just meant that we'd have to stay professional around each other at work. That's all."

Before Greg could even think up a response to that, both Warrick and Nick came into the room.

"Good," Warrick called out, "you're still here. We were thinking about grabbing a bite and going over some things."

What they'd be 'going over' didn't need to be said.

"Catherine and Grissom are already at the diner saving us spots," Nick added, "so we'd better hurry up."

"We'll follow behind you," Sara answered for the both of them.

"See you there," Warrick returned, leaving with Nick close behind.

"Ready?" Sara asked, turning back to Greg who looked dumbstruck.

"I didn't think you wanted people to know."

"Why wouldn't I?" Sara asked back, letting her hands come to rest on his shoulders. "I'm not embarrassed about it. You know, just no making out in the locker room."

Greg finally relaxed a bit and smiled.

"What about the layout room?"

"No," Sara answered, pulling him to his feet.

"The garage?"

"Maybe," she returned, pushing the door open for the both of them.

"Really," he returned, eyebrows raised. "You are one complicated woman."

Sara laughed as they made their way down the hall.

"Oh," Sara said as they got into her car together, "just so you know…"

"What?" Greg asked, mildly concerned at her sudden serious tone.

"Warrick and Nick know too."


	23. Theory

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_The moment a person forms a theory, his imagination sees in every object only the traits which favor that theory."  
__**Thomas Jefferson**_

**Chapter 23: Theory**

Breakfast had been laid back and enjoyable. There was little to no shop talk, everyone content to just enjoy one another's company and catch up a bit in ways they weren't able to inside the lab. But once the meal was over it was easy to sense that they had more important things to discuss.

"I'm sure you all know why I wanted to meet today," Grissom finally began.

No one answered; no one had to. They knew.

"Ecklie is planning to hold a press conference this afternoon. He isn't prepared to come out and say for certain that Henry Baker was responsible for the Highwayman murders, but he is going to inform the press that we have a strong lead."

"Why?" Nick asked first.

"Good publicity," Catherine answered.

"But have they really got anything?" Warrick asked.

"Circumstantial evidence," Grissom said, with a slight nod. "Nothing conclusive."

"Is that why they questioned me for so long?" Greg asked. "Did they think that he'd confessed to me?"

"Exactly," Grissom returned. "If anything, your account of events only skews the case against Henry Baker. After going through the contents of that chest they'd hoped for a nice, clean ending. And they'd wanted you to give it to them."

"What was in that chest?" Sara asked.

"Journals," Grissom said. "Years worth. It seemed that record keeping ran in the family. They go back at least twenty-five years and all of them are about those murders. There were more inside the house that go back further, but don't seem related."

"Are they all as vague as Ashley's?" Greg had to ask, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Surprisingly, no," Grissom answered, with a small smile. "He was very organized. Mainly, they're comprised of lists. Details about the murders. Names, locations, evidence."

"So he could have done it," Catherine said, "if he knew that much about it."

Grissom only shrugged. They couldn't prove it one way or another.

"You told me that Henry Baker went to the police after the third murder with information," Greg said. "Was he ever checked up on? What did he say?"

"I haven't had a chance to go over the interview, it's still on tape, but I do know he was looked into as a possible suspect. From Detective Harper's notes he'd known too much about the case to ignore. But he had an alibi for each murder."

"Who?" Sara asked.

"His wife."

"Who's dead," Greg added, knowing there was no way to confirm it now.

"Doesn't matter," Nick said. "A wife as an alibi isn't very firm. Even if she didn't give him one, she'd never even have to testify against him."

"So where does this leave us?" Warrick asked, cutting to the chase. "Are we going to keep looking into it or just step aside?"

To Greg's surprise, everyone at the table looked at him.

"What do you think, Greg?" Grissom asked.

"Well," he stammered, "honestly, I don't… I'm not sure. I think if Henry Baker had killed those women, he'd of said so. Or, well, I wouldn't be here to talk about it. One or the other. But then again, maybe it was because of Ashley. Because of her knowing… he might not have been able to take it. I just… I don't know."

He paused, tipping forward in his chair as he cleared his throat.

"I do know that if he didn't do it, whoever did is still out there and likely to kill again. So, we shouldn't jump to any conclusions. Not yet at least."

"Exactly," Grissom nodded in agreement.

* * *

Sara didn't really ask as much as assume Greg would stay at her place that day. From the diner she'd simply driven him first to his apartment to pick up a change of clothes and then to her condo.

"You know," he said as they arrived at their final destination, "I didn't know you were this aggressive."

"Is it a problem?"

"I'm not complaining," he returned with a smile. "Just don't think I'm going to let you always get away with it."

"Well," Sara laughed as she unlocked the door, "I didn't want to be alone."

"Or want me to be alone?" he returned, growing more serious.

"That too," she answered.

"I guess that's okay," he said, taking hold of her hands and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Do you really think he's innocent?" Sara asked against his chest.

"Let's not talk about it now."

Sara moved slightly back to look him in the eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't know. I think he might be, of the other murders, but…"

Sara just nodded, knowing very well what he meant. People appeared innocent all the time, it didn't mean a thing.

"You're right, let's not talk about it now," Sara said after a long pause.

"Good," Greg returned, smiling again. "So what are we going to talk about?"

"Nothing," Sara answered, bringing her hands up to his neck and pulling him into a brief, deep kiss.

"Even better," he said as they broke apart with a wicked smile. "I'm not much of a talker anyway."

* * *

Greg awoke with a gasp, sitting upright and alone in bed.

"I didn't wake you did I?" Sara asked quietly from across the room.

"What?" Greg asked, still disorientated.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked instead, coming over and sitting beside him.

"Yeah," he nodded, even though he clearly wasn't. "It must have been a dream, that's all."

"About the other day?"

"Kind of," Greg answered feeling more relaxed as the images slipped from his mind like sand. "Henry was in it, Ashley too. And, I think, you. Yeah, you were there. Except this time…"

Sara took hold of his hand and squeezed it, reassuring him it was a dream and that it was over.

"It was… everything looked blue."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Greg said with a laugh. "I think I need to lay off those journals."

Sara kept quiet, but clearly wanted to say more. She thought he should lay off the whole case. It was getting to him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"What were you looking for?" Greg asked, not wanting to give her a chance to voice the opinion that was so easily read on her face.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sara said. "I just… I can't find my necklace, my favorite actually. I had it the other day and now…"

She gave up with a shrug.

"Maybe you left it in your locker," he suggested.

"I looked there already. All I can think is that it must have slipped in with the laundry."

Greg nodded and became suddenly self-conscious.

"I'm naked again," he said, pulling the covers up some, "aren't I?"

"Yes," Sara said laughing. "Yes, you are."

"You'd think I'd be used to it."

"Why?" Sara asked playfully. "Do you wake up naked in other people's beds a lot?"

"I'm going to take the fifth on that one," he shot back, laughing at the look on her face that was promising to make him pay.

* * *

Warrick wandered around the lab in search of Nick. Grissom had just let him know that he was in the lab, but all of his usual haunts were empty.

Finally, he ran across him, hiding out in the smallest layout room with the blinds shut and the door locked.

"What's going on?" Warrick asked once Nick came to the door to let him in.

"I'm just taking a look at some of Baker's journals," Nick answered, indicating the small stacks of spiral bound books that lay on the table.

"So what's with all the precautions?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Warrick answered in an exaggerated tone, "the closed blinds and the locked door."

"Oh, that," Nick said. "It's nothing. I'm just trying to keep a low profile. I don't think Ecklie wants any of us looking into it at all."

"What makes you think that?"

"The fact that Ecklie told me not to look into it at all."

Warrick laughed as he sat down beside him at the table.

"Find anything yet?"

"Not really," Nick admitted. "But Grissom was right, these are more organized. Some of them almost feel like he was brainstorming or using word association."

"How?" Warrick asked, his interest peeked.

Nick showed him one of the many entries that was comprised of only one short list.

_Water  
__Shallow  
__Ocean  
__Green_

Warrick read it with a furrowed brow, it didn't make sense.

"None of the victims were found in the water," he finally said. "And even if they were, the nearest ocean is over two hundred miles away. This doesn't make sense."

"That was one of the older entries," Nick continued. "Another list he has includes names, check it out."

_D?_ _Deb? Deborah  
__K? Kay?  
__Jayne?  
__Carrie  
__Michelle_

"Wait, wait," Warrick began, "Carrie. Michelle. Those were the last two women murdered. Carrie Davidson and Michelle Wyman. And Jayne could be the Jane Doe, but who spells it that way?"

"And who are the other two women listed?" Nick asked in return.

"Do you think he killed more than just the three?"

"It kind of looks that way," Nick answered, "if you think he really did it."

Warrick fixed him with a serious look. He understood Grissom's rationale, that there was no solid evidence. And to a point, he understood Greg's reluctance. It was probably easier to deal with the whole situation if you could imagine that you were never in any real danger. But he didn't expect this of Nick.

"Think about it," Nick persisted. "If, and I'm only saying if, Ashley Baker was psychic she probably inherited it from her father."

"Oh Nick," Warrick sighed, rubbing his eyes, "you need to take a break."

"Just hear me out," he implored. "Even if she wasn't psychic, maybe just intuitive, it's likely her father was too. That it was a learned behavior."

Warrick continued to shake his head, but didn't interrupt.

"They both kept journals," Nick continued. "And they both ran the same type of scams."

"Okay."

"So, what if they both had visions about these murders."

"Even if they did, why? These murders are twenty years old. I'll give you Henry Baker. He did go to the police claiming to have information…"

"So did Ashley," Nick put in.

"Yeah, she did. But she never came out and said it."

"That's what I'm getting at. Read her journal again. You'll see. She'd been having dreams about the Highwayman murders for at least five months, the same time that Henry took up writing in these journals again. It wasn't until after Ashley met Mrs. Juarez and saw her daughter that her entries change."

Nick paused. Warrick wasn't getting it. Not yet at least.

"I think that seeing Lydia Juarez's picture triggered some repressed memories and she mistook them for legitimate visions. She couldn't get the Highwayman murders out of her head and now suddenly she remembers her father killing this woman and thinks he killed them all."

"You're reaching man."

"No," Nick argued. "I'm not. Go back and read those missing entries, the ones she sent to Greg and her father. They were coherent. It wasn't these vague ramblings she'd written before; it was solid eye-witness testimony."

"Alright," Warrick momentarily conceded, "let's assume that Henry Baker isn't the Highwayman and that he and his daughter both had psychic visions of who the real killer is. Why now? There haven't been any murders that match that MO in over twenty years. What happened five months ago to suddenly bring them on again?"

But Nick only shrugged, having no answer to that. It was the one thing that had kept him searching their journals for so long.


	24. Progress

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Thanks as always to my betas, Tripp3235 and RivenSky.

"_Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything."  
__**George Bernard Shaw**_

**Chapter 24: Progress**

Greg and Sara came in that night together, smiling as they walked the halls. And if one or two of the techs gave them odd or knowing looks, they didn't mind. In fact, they didn't notice at all. They felt too good to care.

Greg's first order of the night was to find and listen to Henry Baker's interview tapes and then read through the case files. They'd arrived early specifically for that reason, but Sara had begged off actually going over them. She had a lead to track down with Warrick and the sooner it was done the better.

He had a chance to go through it all only once before shift began.

It had been interesting to say the least.

Henry's voice was easily recognizable, but the other two were unknown. Greg thought he would hear Harper on the tape before remembering that he had been replaced after the case had become high profile.

Still, it might be worth asking if he'd witnessed the interview from behind the glass. Harper had said he'd been in on all of them.

It was another short pre-shift meeting and soon Greg found himself on his way to a hit and run with Catherine.

She'd been unusually quiet for the first half of the ride, but Greg knew that wouldn't last. He could just tell she was itching to say something.

"Greg," she began, gaze fixed firmly on the road. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day."

"Catherine, please. You don't have to. I appreciate that you want to help, but I'm fine."

"You may think you're fine…"

"Why is everyone so bent on telling me what I think?" Greg cut-in.

"I'm just saying I've been there," she coolly responded.

Greg turned away, not ready to concede.

"It can be scary…"

"Oh man," Greg muttered under his breath, turning further away from her in his seat.

"…and uncertain but that's what comes with being out in the field…"

"Alright," Greg interrupted, "I can't take this anymore. Catherine, please. I know we were on different shifts for the past year, but I was still in the field. I've even been shot at before. Really, I'm not going to fall apart on you. And FYI, the lab that I worked at before, not exactly a safe haven. Remember?"

Catherine nodded uncomfortably.

"Listen," Greg said with more control, "I know you're just looking out for me. And thank you, but I can do this."

"You're right," Catherine echoed, looking over at him with a wan smile. "You're right."

"And so you know, I'm not going home and crying myself to sleep or anything. I swear."

"Well, I imagine Sara would have something to say about it if you were."

Greg gave her a hard look; Catherine returned it with a wink.

"That quick? You all know that quick?"

"Oh please," Catherine said with a laugh, "you two have been making eyes at each other for months. I'm surprised it took this long."

Greg sat there, shaking his head.

"Come on," Catherine said, pulling to a stop. "Let's get this scene cleared so we can get back in time for you and Sara to take your breaks together. Again."

"You know," Greg called after her, "I think I'll take the mothering if this is the alternative."

"Oh no, you've made your choice."

"Just great," Greg said sarcastically but unable to keep from wearing a smile.

* * *

Greg did get back just in time to meet Sara for their break, but they didn't go alone. Nick and Warrick had waited around also, wanting to go over the Highwayman murders with them both.

"So," Sara started after they'd ordered, "what was on the tapes?"

"It was odd."

"Odd how?" Warrick asked, stifling a yawn. "Odd like Ashley or what?"

"No," Greg answered, struggling to put it together. "He was much more concise. I mean, he seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say. You know, after the standard interview stuff they always go through, he wouldn't really answer their questions, just asked a few of his own and then started rattling off all sorts of information."

Greg stopped to take a drink of his water.

"He told the detectives that the suspect was 'tricking them'."

"Tricking who?" Nick asked.

"That's what they asked and this is where he was a lot like Ashley; it seemed to confuse him."

Sara nodded in agreement. Not that she'd heard the tape, but it was a fair description of Ashley. The few times Sara had talked to her, Ashley had always seemed thrown if you didn't understand her right away.

"He just repeated it a few times and then he said, 'he's fooling them' and…"

Greg stopped again for another drink of water. The more time he'd had to think about this, the crazier it got.

"And?" Sara gently prodded.

"And then he said something like 'fooling like a clown'."

"A clown?" Warrick asked feeling much more alert than before.

Greg nodded.

"Then he did this, you'd have to hear it… it was just… I'm not sure I can even describe it. It was like the word 'clown' triggered something and he just went on about how it wasn't like a clown and he hated clowns and…"

"Clowns?" Sara repeated, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Greg confirmed. "Unless I fell asleep listening to the thing and dreamed it up, he definitely hated clowns."

"Okay," Sara said, trying to wrap her head around it. "Ashley was always referencing clowns and the circus. And now it looks like Henry was too. Was that in his journals?"

"No," Nick answered, shaking his head. "I'd have remembered that. But there was some references to water. Any on the tape?"

Greg thought about it for a minute.

"I don't think so," he finally returned. "But he did say that he'd done it before. That this wasn't the first time."

"That fits with why he'd have five names instead of three in his journals," Warrick supplied.

"What I don't get," Nick interrupted, "is why this guy, whoever he is, didn't brag. Usually these guys can't shut up about it. Why was Highwayman so quiet?"

"Maybe he wasn't," Sara said. "I mean, if it was Henry Baker who killed these women, going to the police with information is pretty close to rubbing the detectives' noses in it."

"Or maybe the detectives were on to him already and he didn't want to risk it," Warrick said.

"He said that," Greg said suddenly. "Henry said that in the interview. He told them they were close to it. Close to the killer."

"Do we have the old suspect list?" Nick asked.

"Harper would," Greg answered. "I was going to talk to him in the morning anyway about the interview; I'll ask him for it."

"It could be just another mislead," Warrick reminded them. "If it was Baker, he wasn't lying. They were close to him. About three feet."

* * *

"I guess you're here because of the Highwayman, right?"

Greg nodded to Detective Harper, having once more taken a seat in his cramped office.

"Where's your partner, what's her name, Sandy?" he asked.

"She couldn't make it," Greg answered. "She had an appointment this morning."

"Yeah," he nodded gruffly, "they always do. You know, that's exactly why they shouldn't let them on the force. When they're not busy with all their so-called 'appointments' they're off having babies. It's no place for a woman if you ask me."

For perhaps the first time in his entire life, Greg had no response. He just stared, wide-eyed in disbelief. Not that it was a big shock given his attitude before; he'd just never expected Harper to come out and actually say it out loud.

"Of course," Harper said, obviously back peddling, "some of them aren't that bad. Your partner seems alright. Tough. I'm sure she handles herself well."

Again, Greg just didn't know what to say. It was baffling.

"Um," Greg interrupted before he had to listen to any more, "yeah. Well, I was hoping I could get a copy of the original suspect list from you; from the Highwayman case."

"Why would you need that?" he asked. "They're going to close it. Didn't your boss tell you?"

"Yes but…"

"Well, why would you need it then?"

Before Greg could answer, Harper began to shuffle through the nearest filing cabinet.

"Listen," he said as he searched, "you're new to this, right?"

"I've been…"

"You're new," he stated firmly. "I've been doing this for years. These women, he kept them for days. Would have been easy to do out on that ranch in the middle of nowhere."

"But he had a wife and a child."

"So did the Green River killer," Harper insisted.

"Yes but he didn't…"

"Doesn't matter," Harper said. "A lot of crazies put up a nice, respectable front. They have wives, kids… doesn't matter."

Greg nodded in agreement.

"But didn't the Highwayman take mementos? I read the files and…"

"Yes," Harper nodded, for the first time looking doubtful. "He did."

"And they weren't found," Greg said.

"No," he admitted. "They weren't. But we're still looking."

"From what I've read," Greg began but was quickly cut off.

"Listen," Harper said. "This guy, he did it. After awhile, you just know."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"I witnessed his interview. He knew things. Things that he couldn't… only the murderer could have known. It was him. Henry Baker's our man."

"Yes but…"

"Henry Baker is our man."


	25. Hollow

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper"  
__**T.S. Eliot 'The Hollow Men'**_

**Chapter 25: Hollow**

After leaving Harper's office, Greg had gone straight home and crashed. He hadn't realized how tired he was until then. He'd probably have slept until shift change if it hadn't been for Anne.

She'd called again, four times, each call louder and more confrontational than the last.

After the last call he couldn't get back to sleep, and seeing it was late enough in the day, called Sara instead.

"Hello," she answered sounding very much awake.

"I was thinking I should have a pet name for you."

"Oh no," Sara giggled.

"Yes," he implored, "I should. I should call you something like sweetie or snookums…"

"No," she managed in-between laughs, "no."

"Why not?"

"Because," she argued, "that's not how you do it. You just don't assign names like that."

"So I should just start calling you babe or something? I've never quite understood how that works."

Sara continued to laugh and it was like music.

"I love your laugh," he said before he could quite stop himself.

Sara cleared her throat in the fashion he'd become used too. The one that implied she was blushing.

"So," she began, "how'd it go today?"

"Alright, but I don't want to talk about work."

"Okay," she replied, "what then?"

"Let's go out. Let me come by and we'll go somewhere together. Out to eat or to a movie. I don't care where, I just want to see you."

"Yeah, I want to see you too."

"Can I come over?"

"Of course," she laughed. "Greg, you don't have to ask."

"I'll see you soon then."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

"There they are," Warrick said with a smirk as Sara and Greg came into the break room.

Nick just looked over at them and tapped his watch, also smirking.

"Sorry," Greg returned. "Traffic was…"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick interrupted. "Traffic. Sure."

"It's only a few minutes," Sara shot back. "Besides, where's Grissom?"

"Not here yet," Warrick answered.

"So we're not late," she said in return, sitting down at the table.

"Get anything out of Harper?" Warrick asked.

"Grief," Greg answered. "He just wants this case closed. He's not interested in actually solving it."

"Probably thinks he'll get out of cold cases if it happens," Nick added. "It would look good for him; might even get one last promotion before he retires."

"Makes it sound like he's selling his soul," Greg said.

"Well…" Nick started, but stopped as Grissom arrived.

"I'm going to make this short," Grissom said even before he'd gotten through the door. "Warrick, you and I are taking a multi-car accident on the North end of town. Catherine will meet us there. Sara and Greg, there's a DB in an abandoned house off the strip. Police are waiting for you to pass the scene. Nick, you're meeting Sofia at the Hilton for a possible armed robbery. Everyone clear?"

They all nodded as he handed out the call slips.

"Good," Grissom finished. "Let's go."

* * *

"I never know what I'm looking for with these calls."

Sara looked over at Greg and smiled.

"You're looking for evidence."

"I know that," he returned as he swept the room with his flashlight, "but of what? This guy probably dropped dead of old age and his buddies called it in."

Sara shrugged, she couldn't argue it.

"I mean," he went on, "I know why they call, they want a decent burial and yeah, I understand. But why do we have to investigate it?"

"Because," Sara said, leaning closer to the body, "of this. Come here."

Greg crossed the room and stood behind her.

"What's that?" she asked, indicating the man's eyes with her flashlight.

"A rookie question," he shot back. "Petechiae hemorrhaging. You can get those if cough hard enough, long enough. He could have had pneumonia."

"Or he could have been strangled."

Greg nodded, before looking once more around the room.

"What's keeping David?" he asked.

"Why," she returned, "got a date?"

He laughed and moved across the room.

"Interested?"

They were interrupted by a short tap on the door followed by the officer on scene's entrance.

"Hey, Sara. We got a call about that pile up on the interstate. They need us there. You two going to be alright?"

"Yeah, sure. We got it. We're just waiting on the coroner."

"It might be awhile," the officer returned. "Count is up to twelve from that accident."

Sara shook her head in understanding as the man said goodbye.

"It's going to be a long night, isn't it?" Greg asked.

"Yes it is," Sara echoed. "We might as well take a look around. Get comfortable."

"Comfortable? This is a shack."

Sara laughed, but he was right.

"But you know what's weird," Greg continued. "It doesn't look lived in."

"Well, like you said, it's a shack."

"I know that," Greg said, "but that body we got last week, Nick and I, you could tell the guy lived there. This place is a palace in comparison. No trash. No waste. No… nothing."

Sara frowned as she took it in as well.

There was little to no furniture, as if the house had only been abandoned recently. The house opened to two rooms, what would be a dining room on the right where the body was found and a living room to the left. The dining room was empty except for their victim and a few empty boxes, but the living room still had a couch, buffet table and a few other odds and ins. There was a staircase between the two rooms, with the kitchen in the back of the house.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"You're right. I don't think he lived here. Or if he did, he just moved in."

Greg nodded as he looked around, finally stopping on the patio door.

"It's open," he said walking over to it. "Should I print it?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Something about this feels off. Lift what you can, I'm going to go check out the kitchen."

"Okay," Greg answered, prodding the door open with his foot as he prepared to get to work.

Printing was time consuming, Greg having only just become truly proficient. Halfway into the process, his phone rang.

Setting his things down as neatly as he could back in place he answered it before checking the ID and instantly regretted it.

"Anne," he said at the first given opportunity, "Anne. I'm at work. I can't talk now."

But she wouldn't let up; she just kept going on as loud and as angry as ever.

"I know I answered, but I have to answer my phone. It's my job."

Greg listened to her rant on for another few minutes before getting another chance to say anything.

"We'll talk later, alright?"

It wasn't alright. Anne was really on a roll. Greg knew he should just give in and give her the Bible, the coin collection, whatever she wanted. It was either that or endure a lifetime of calls like this.

"Anne…"

Greg sighed and shook his head.

"Anne…"

A loud noise caught his attention coming from the back of the house.

"I've got to go," he said quickly, not waiting for an answer just hanging up and putting the phone down on the buffet.

Greg took a few tentative steps forward, not sure if he'd really heard the sound or imagined it. The house was so quiet now, it didn't seem like it had happened.

But he heard it again.

It wasn't as loud this time, but it wasn't normal.

And it couldn't be good.

Greg took a few steps forward before finally speaking.

"Sara?"


	26. Blue

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Again, I must thank my betas Tripp3235 and RivenSky. And, so you know, they tried to stop me.

"_In the end, all you'll see is blue."  
__**Henry Baker**_

**Chapter 26: Blue**

"I won," Sofia said with a smirk, leaning against her car as Nick got out of his truck.

"You cheated."

"I didn't cheat," she laughed. "I'm a cop. I'm allowed to run a yellow."

"That light was red," he argued, as he took out his case. "Not yellow."

Sofia continued to smirk as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Next time…" he started to say, but was interrupted by David's arrival.

"Hey guys," David waved, looking exhausted.

"Long night?" Nick asked.

"Terrible," David agreed. "Why does everyone have to die on my shift?"

Sofia and Nick laughed as the three of them walked towards the house.

"So you haven't even declared yet?" Nick asked him as they got to the steps.

"No," David answered. "No time. I just left that accident scene."

"Sara is probably going nuts," Nick added.

Sofia and Nick, not needed at the pile-up, had decided to stop by and see how Sara and Greg were doing. Now he almost regretted it. Having worked with Sara numerous times, he knew how impatient she could be, especially if the case was routine. They had to have been on scene for an hour with nothing to do but wait. And while Greg was patient enough, Sara didn't like to wait.

"I'm sure she's fine," Sofia said, opening the door with the flashlight and quickly sweeping the room.

David and Nick followed close behind.

"Hey Greg," Nick called out, "Sara. We're here."

"I'm just going to," David said, indicating the body off to the right.

Nick nodded and walked over with him, but Sofia hadn't moved.

"Where do you think they are?" David asked, as he prepared to get a body temperature from the corpse.

"Might be checking upstairs," Nick said.

He looked up at the staircase, expecting to see Greg and Sara walking down it any minute now, before turning back to Sofia.

She was still standing there in the entry with the beam of her flashlight pointed at the floor on the far side of the living room.

"Sofia?"

"I thought there was only one body," she said.

There was something in her voice he couldn't quite place. Something he'd never heard before. It almost sounded like fear.

"Hey Nick," David said, distracting him further, "I think your guy was strangled. He's got hemorrhages and some bruising on his neck."

Nick looked back at the body, surprised. He hadn't expected it to be a murder.

Sofia was also surprised. She couldn't place it, but there was something wrong; something familiar about this other body, the one in the living room. It was stupid, but she couldn't shake it. How could a body seem familiar when all you could see of it was its shoes?

It's checkered shoes…

"Greg?" Sofia said weakly.

Nick looked first to the staircase. Having heard Greg's name called, he thought that he'd finally turned up. Greg and Sara both.

But suddenly Sofia was moving. Her gun was drawn and she'd crossed the living room at break neck speed.

"Greg," she said loudly, "oh, God. Call an ambulance!"

Nick froze, certain he'd heard wrong. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

"Nick," Sofia yelled close to panic, "now! Call!"

David moved first. He stumbled momentarily, but was at Sofia's side in an instant. Nick heard him mutter something under his breath before saying he'd found a pulse.

That did it.

Nick finally snapped to and got on the phone, crossing the room to see for himself.

He dialed with one hand as the other found his gun. Sofia nodded at him before she set off towards the kitchen. Nick didn't need her to say it; the perp might still be on scene.

"He's been shot," David said. "It's bad, Nick. I don't know…"

"Do what you can," Nick told him, finally getting an answer on the other line.

He quickly rattled off all of the information needed but couldn't stay on the line. David was asking for his help and Sofia was still searching the building. It was hard to concentrate; there was too much happening too quickly.

"We've got to roll him," David repeated. "I need your help. We'll go easy on three, okay?"

Nick knelt down opposite David, Greg's back to him. He'd been lying on his side, unconscious.

It felt unreal.

Nick quickly holstered his gun and indicated he was ready.

On David's word the moved him, although not quite as smoothly as planned. The jarring motion roused Greg. The pain and shock of it all sat him partially up, coughing blood. Instinctively, Nick and David each placed a hand on his shoulders and tried to push him back down.

Greg finally relaxed and quit fighting them. Exhausted by the effort, Greg let his head fall back to the floor with a loud thud. Still coughing blood, he moaned in pain as he rocked up on his heels.

Nick, having never been sick at a scene before, thought he might be now. There was just so much blood. He wondered how long Greg had been here like this. The wondering only made him sicker.

"Greg," he said, his voice faltering only momentarily. "Greg, hang on. The paramedics are coming, alright. You need to just hang…"

It was as if Greg finally saw them; finally recognized them. He looked first to David and then to Nick. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

"Greg," David said firmly, "I'm going to have to press on your stomach, alright? It's going to hurt but we need to stop the bleeding."

"Here," Nick said, taking off his jacket and passing it over.

David didn't wait, showed no hesitation. He knew Greg had lost a serious amount of blood already and they needed to do this quick.

Greg gasped when he first applied pressure to the wound, but didn't complain.

"He's gone," Sofia said, coming up behind them both. "The house is empty. I can't… I couldn't… Sara's not here either."

Nick looked up sharply. He'd been so focused on Greg it had never occurred to him that Sara might be in a similar situation somewhere else in the house.

"But where…" Nick started to ask.

"…took… her… "

The words had been barely audible, forced and obviously pained.

"Who took her?" Nick asked Greg.

Greg answered, but Nick couldn't understand. His words were garbled but his eyes were wide. It sounded like 'help her'.

"We're going to help her, Greg, but if you can tell us who…"

But Greg only repeated what he'd said before, this time taking hold of Nick's arm and squeezing as tight as he could, but it still sounded as if he was asking them to help Sara.

Nick knew he was in pain, but he had to get Greg to focus.

"Greg…"

"I don't think he's saying 'help her'," David interrupted.

Greg's eyes moved quickly from Nick to David, almost pleading. David and Nick moved in as close as they could as Greg spoke once more.

"Harper?" David repeated tentatively. "Is he saying Harper?"

Nick sat back in disbelief.

"Detective Harper," Sofia boomed. "No…did he do this? Greg, Saul Harper? Detective Saul Harper?"

Greg managed a small nod and his whole body visibly relaxed.

Sofia was already on the radio, alerting anyone and everyone of the situation.

"Nick," David said, the stress of the situation finally leaking into his voice, "we really need that ambulance."

Nick looked first to David and then to Greg and understood. All of the energy seemed to have gone from him. Greg's eyes were no longer focused, just staring off into nothing. It was as if he'd fought long enough to tell them who was responsible, but couldn't do it any more.

Finally, Greg seemed to have lost it altogether, as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Greg," Nick practically shouted, "don't do this. Stay awake, alright. Just stay awake a little while longer. Help is going to be here soon."

Greg must have heard him as his eyes fluttered open once more, but it looked like it took a real effort.

"The paramedics are a few minutes out," Sofia said, looking on with concern. "Back-ups on its way and officers are already heading to Harper's house."

"It's going to be fine," Nick continued, taking hold of his hand for support. "Just… hold on and it's going to be fine."

Greg looked at him and managed a very pained smile, squeezing his hand in return but without much pressure.

David caught Nick's attention and shook his head slightly; it wasn't good.

Nick started to say something more when to his surprise, Greg laughed.

"Greg?"

Greg, eyes fixed on the ceiling, laughed again; this time so hard he began to cough blood once more.

"What…"

"…blue…"

"I don't understand," Nick said certain Greg was delirious from the pain.

"…it wasn't… it was never about the case…"

"Greg, it's going to be alright."

"…it was for me… blue… it was for me…"

"Just try and…"

"…no time… it's blue… in the end… it's blue…"

Greg gave another, weaker laugh, still looking up at the ceiling.

Nick finally noticed it too.

The room, once dark, was aglow with light. Blue light. All of it coming from the various emergency vehicles that had pulled up outside.

Nick felt Greg's hand slip out of his own, having finally given in.


	27. Perspective

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_You'll solve it and it'll stop."  
__**Ashley Baker**_

**Chapter 27: Perspective**

"Jim, what are you doing here?"

Brass shifted uneasily at the door hating this part of the job.

"Anita, we're going to have to have a look around your house."

"What for?" the older woman asked, clearly thunderstruck to see so many people at her door so late at night.

"Is Saul home?" Brass asked instead of answering.

"No," she shook her head. "He's working late. On that case, what's the one? It was on the news."

"That's why we're here," he answered.

"But I don't…"

"We've got a search warrant," he handed over, not unkindly.

"Well," she said clearly unnerved, "come in. Of course you can look around."

Mrs. Harper took several steps back, letting Brass, Grissom and two uniformed officers inside.

"Does your husband have a study?" Grissom asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head clearly bewildered. "He does have a workshop. Jim, is Saul hurt?"

"No, Anita, he's fine."

"Ma'am?" Grissom gently reminded her.

"Oh yes," she said, fidgeting, "the workshop. It's out back."

Mrs. Harper led them out the back door to a rather large shed, opening the door and turning on the light.

"Saul loves to build. He's very handy. He loves this place."

Grissom scanned the room, his eye finally falling on the one thing that looked out of place.

"Do you know where your husband got this?" he asked, donning gloves and taking the object off the shelf.

"That," Anita responded, positively beaming, "is from our honeymoon. We've been married nearly thirty years now. We went to Sarasota. I bought that for him at the museum."

"Museum?" Grissom asked.

"Yes," she nodded, still smiling. "The Ringling Brothers Museum. It's a beautiful place, right on the gulf, but it stormed half the time we were there."

Grissom opened the palm sized box, shaped like a circus tent and examined the contents.

"He keeps that in here because he says it reminds him of me," Anita added.

"And these?" Grissom asked, holding up a necklace; one of many.

Anita gave it a once over.

"I don't know," she said. "I've never…"

"Officer Sorenson," Brass interjected, "why don't you take Mrs. Harper back inside."

The man accompanied him nodded and ushered her out.

"So…" Brass said once they were alone, letting it drag out into a question.

Grissom just looked back into the trinket box and shook his head. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. It was mind numbing.

"I've known Saul Harper as long as I've been on the force," Brass said. "I never… this isn't…"

He stopped, shaking his head to as if that would clear matters up.

Before saying anything further, Brass' phone rang. Before answering he exchanged a dark look with Grissom. True, it was news, but how good could it be? Sara was missing and Greg was in the hospital. The odds weren't in either of their favors. Still, he had to answer.

"Brass," he said into the phone.

Grissom looked on impatiently.

"Alright. Thanks."

Brass hung up and sighed.

"They've got him."

* * *

Officer Pete Paulson had been working the end of the strip for nearly three years. And it really was that, the end of the strip. After Nellis Air Force Base, all that was left was the speedway and then nothing.

It was a dull assignment, but that was alright with him. He got an occasional speeder and once the tail end of a high speed chase, but not much else.

Most of the real action in town was in domestic altercations, robberies, scams. The tourists were pretty safe; it was the locals that had to worry.

It was mostly boredom that led him to fire up his lights as a car, heading into that nothing, passed by doing just seven miles over the speed limit. Boredom and the fact that the car had a broken tail light.

The car pulled over with no complaints and Pete was just stepping out of his car when dispatch came on the radio, but he didn't have time to hear it. It was probably just another alert about the pile-up nearby. It didn't affect him; not even the worst of crashes affected the non-existent traffic on his stretch of road.

Unless it was a race day.

Pete pulled on his hat and walked up, ever alert, to the driver's window.

"Evening officer," the man inside said, smiling.

"License and registration," Pete returned.

"Guess I was going a bit fast back there," the man rattled on.

"Fifty-two in a forty-five," he answered as he looked over his identification. "And you've got a busted light."

"I do?"

Pete just nodded. He heard it all before.

"I'm going to…" Pete began, but stopped abruptly. "Did you hear that?"

"No."

Pete strained to listen, but his eyes never left the driver.

A soft thud could just be heard coming from the rear of the car. Pete heard it, and judging from the way the driver's eyes widened, he heard it too.

Pete didn't think, he just reacted.

"Get your hands up and step out of the car," he said loudly, gun drawn.

"Officer…"

"Get out of the car, now!"

The man didn't. Instead he slammed the door shut and threw the car into gear. Officer Paulson had no choice but to open fire, taking out both the front and rear tires on the driver's side.

The car veered sharply off the road before stopping, Pete already on his radio firing off all the necessary codes.

The car door opened again and this time the driver was compliant. His hands in the air, he stepped away from the car and knelt down.

"I know the drill," he said glibly. "I know."

Pete quickly handcuffed him before leading him off to his patrol car and for the first time in his career, he hesitated.

Finally, he decided what had to be done.

Retrieving the keys still in the ignition, he held his gun out and ready just in case.

"This is the North Vegas police," he said loudly. "I'm opening the trunk."

As quick as he could manage, Pete opened the trunk and gasped. Nothing could quite prepare him for the moment.

"We're going to need an ambulance," he said into his radio.

* * *

It wasn't the noise or the smell that woke her, but the motion.

Sara opened her eyes and struggled. Not just to move, but to breathe. Wherever she was, it was dark and the stench was overpowering.

Feeling lightheaded, Sara tried to raise herself up but couldn't. Her hands were bound tightly behind her and the space so small that there was no chance to free them.

Finally, adjusting to the little light there was, Sara caught sight of a neon glow.

She was in a trunk.

Sara fought down any instinct she might have to scream. Screaming would be pointless. There was already precious little air, no need to waste it. What she had to do was think.

Slowly she repositioned herself so that she was facing the rear of the car. It was slow work made harder by the continuous jolts of the moving vehicle.

Once she got herself ready, she kicked.

Sara kicked as hard as she could, as best she could, at about where she guessed the break light must be. Gaining as much leverage as possible by bracing her self first, she kept kicking until she thought she could see light; a lot of light which was a good thing.

Light meant they were still in the city.

Sara had to stop as a sudden wave of nausea swept over her. She had no recollection of what had happened or even how she'd gotten into this situation, but she imagined that she had been knocked unconscious.

Before she could recover the car had stopped.

Sara's whole body tensed up as she strained to hear what was happening. She could just make out muffled footsteps, but it was impossible to say if they were heading to or from but it was best to be prepared.

She strained to hear what was happening, but it wasn't easy. The car had stopped but the engine was still on.

Deciding she had nothing to loose, Sara braced herself as best she could and kicked both legs up into the lid of the trunk. Stopping to see if it had had any affect, she waited only a few minutes before trying again.

Suddenly the car was moving again and to her horror there was the distinct sound of gunfire.

She couldn't control the scream as it came this time, but it was brief. The car rocked hard before finally stopping. Sara could make out a man's voice, yelling something, but she didn't know what.

Then it was quiet.

Sara sat staring at the lid of the trunk, panic beginning to creep up on her. What if she'd just been abandoned? What if no one ever found her? A thousand 'what ifs' sprang to mind, each of them worse than the one before.

And then, footsteps.

A man, the one she'd heard yelling before, called out.

"This is the North Vegas police. I'm opening the trunk."

Part of her didn't believe it; couldn't believe it. It seemed too easy. Too simple. But he lifted the lid open and she saw it was true. She couldn't speak.

The man, the police officer, got on his radio and called for an ambulance.

Sara could only imagine she looked as bad as she felt.


	28. Recreate

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"_We are one, after all, you and I, together we suffer, together exist and forever will recreate each other."  
__**Teilhard de Chardin**_

**Chapter 28: Recreate**

"Officer out front said I'd find you here."

Warrick looked up from the road he'd been examining; he'd been at that abandoned house for hours on Grissom's orders.

"I think I got something here," he told her.

Catherine came over looking how he imagined they all did, dazed.

"The gate here was opened," Warrick pointed out. "The padlock had been snapped. He must have staked out this location. David's initial ruling on the John Doe inside was manual strangulation, so Harper probably planted the body, called nine-one-one and waited from here to see who showed."

Catherine peered over the fence.

"All he'd need was binoculars," Warrick added, "and opportunity."

She nodded grimly before turning back to him.

"Grissom's at his house now," she supplied. "Found his collection amongst other things."

Warrick shut his eyes as he shook his head; at this point he didn't even want to know.

"How are they?" he asked.

"Sara's at the hospital," she said. She was trying to detach from this, but couldn't quite do it. "They're going to do a kit."

Warrick swore under his breath and rubbed his eyes; the whole thing was a nightmare.

"Otherwise, she's okay. Shaken, understandably. Doesn't remember much of it; that's probably good."

"Does she know about Greg?"

Catherine grimaced as she shook her head.

"Either she hasn't remembered enough to ask or she's afraid too."

"Any word?"

"No," Catherine shook her head. "Nick is at the hospital. He's supposed to call. Ecklie is getting a hold of his family. He's going to stop by here later for a walk through."

"Why don't I give you the run down then," Warrick said.

Catherine agreed and he once more told her how he thought Harper had staked out the back of the place.

"He'd know that the cops usually only check the building," he continued. "Even if they did come out back, he'd have seen them in plenty of time to have hidden."

"Okay," Catherine said, "then what?"

"See how you can see the street from here?" Warrick asked, pointing out the vacancy between houses. "Well, if he was waiting for opportunity, he got lucky because according to the logs the officers on scene got called away. He'd have had a clear view of them pulling out and would have known he was free to make his move."

Warrick opened the gate for Catherine and together they walked up to the back of the house. Shining his light just outside the kitchen door, he showed her the spot where he'd poured fresh plaster not long ago.

"I found a set of footprints here," he indicated. "I think he was crouching, listening at the door. Door was unlocked; he probably did that in advance. No one would think twice about an unlocked door in an abandoned house. I've already printed it."

Warrick and Catherine moved into the house through the kitchen entrance.

"I don't know exactly what happened, or how, but this is where he subdued Sara. When Sofia walked me through the house she pointed this out."

Warrick swept his flashlight over to the edge of the counter that was dark with blood.

"He had to have gotten behind her somehow, struggled and hit her head there."

Catherine shut her eyes, but it did no good. Her mind easily replayed it.

"Once he had her unconscious he had to have laid her down in the corner," Warrick said, shining the light to the place indicated; the blood was easy to see.

"While Sara was in here," Warrick continued, stepping quickly through the room and to the main part of the house, "Greg was in the living room. I found his case open, near the patio door. He'd been printing."

Catherine held a hand up to her mouth, afraid she'd be sick. The pool of blood still looked fresh.

"Alright?" Warrick asked her, gently touching her elbow.

"Yes," she nodded, still looking green. "Go on."

"The only thing I'm sure of is that Harper confronted Greg before he had a chance to get to the kitchen. The scene was disturbed so it's hard to figure, but I found blood drops starting here, leading back to where Greg was found lying."

"Anything else?" Catherine asked, clearing her throat and focusing on Warrick so as not to have to look at the scene any more.

He nodded and shone his light to the far corner of the room where a lone marker stood.

"I found the gun."

"Why don't I like the look on your face right now?" Catherine reluctantly asked.

"It was Sara's," Warrick said point blank. "He must have taken the gun off of her and used it to shoot Greg."

"So he didn't come armed?"

"Doesn't look like it."

* * *

"Answers, Harper, I want answers."

Brass was pacing up and down the room, positively fuming.

"I know my rights."

"You have no rights," Brass fired back. "Not after this."

"Either charge me or get me my lawyer," he responded coolly. "I'm not saying anything else."

"I thought you'd want to tell us," Grissom said, matching Harper's tone but not without some difficulty. "We found your extra room and your souvenirs. But I'm confused."

Harper stared across the table, for the first time looking interested in what was happening.

"Why so many?"

"I would think for a trained investigator that would be obvious."

Grissom nodded slowly.

"This one," he said, taking an evidence bag out of the manila envelope he had with him, "I know."

Harper said nothing, but a sick smile spread across his face.

Grissom fought down the urge to say anything, but Brass didn't quite manage.

"So on top of murder, kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon," Brass ranted, "we can add breaking and entering."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sara Sidle's home was robbed," Brass continued. "That's where you got the necklace."

Still, he wasn't budging. He just shrugged it off.

"Even you," Brass said, "a third-rate detective at best could have figured that one out."

For the first time something like emotion flickered across Harper's features, but he kept his composure.

"What about the others?" Grissom interjected.

Harper ignored him.

"We know about the first three women," he continued. "We know about Sara. So who were the others? Who were the other eleven?"

Harper looked on the verge of saying something when the door banged open.

"I think that's enough," a man, hastily dressed and carrying a briefcase said as he came into the room. "I'm Mike Farrow, Mr. Harper's lawyer. His wife called and let me know he was being interrogated without legal counsel. That's a big no-no detective. This interview is over."

* * *

Nick tapped lightly on the door, just catching the faint 'come in' that followed.

"Hey, Sara," he called, crossing the room in three or four quick strides. "Thought you could use some company."

Sara sat motionless on the edge of the hospital bed, still wearing the gown they'd given her. She looked fairly beaten up, but Nick didn't let the shock register on his face.

"I can't remember what happened," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I keep trying and… it's just not there."

"Don't push yourself," Nick said as he sat down beside her.

"But I have to know," she shot back harshly. "If I'm going to testify I have to know."

"There's plenty of time for that. Right now you need to get some rest."

Sara wrung her hands, showing no sign of wanting to rest.

"I remember going to the lab," she continued. "I know I did. It just feels fuzzy. I can't… "

"You took a pretty hard hit, Sara. It's not going to come back…"

"Where's Greg?" she asked urgently, her eyes alive with terror.

"Sara…"

"He was with me," she continued, recollecting it for the first time. "He was with me. We were at a house together. Where is he, Nick? He'd be here if…"

"Calm down, please," Nick managed, though just barely. "He's here."

"What do you mean?" Sara fired back. "Tell me what happened."

Nick hesitated, not sure what he should say.

"Nick," Sara urged.

"He's in surgery," he said. "He was shot and he's in surgery."

"Shot?" Sara repeated in a daze.

"In the abdomen," Nick continued, "three times. He lost a lot of blood. The doctors aren't very optimistic."

"How long has… "

Sara couldn't find it in her to finish, to ask any more.

"He's been in for a few hours now," Nick answered anyway. "Dr. Cordova said that it would take some time, that they have to check everything thoroughly."

"Have you seen him?"

"Sofia was the one who found him," Nick answered. "We'd come by to help you two out. David had just…"

He trailed off, not sure if he could talk about it just yet.

"He lost a lot of blood," he repeated. "A lot."

"Was he awake?" Sara asked, looking down at her hands as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"For awhile."

"What did he… did he say anything?"

"He just wanted us to find you," Nick answered.

Sara nodded before wiping her face.

"Can I see him?" she asked, her resolve showing once more.

"He'll be in the ICU for awhile," he answered, "but Dr. Cordova said that once he's stable he can have visitors."

They sat side-by-side in silence for sometime until Nick couldn't take it any longer.

"Do you want to be alone?" he asked gently. "I can come back later or not if you like."

"Stay," she said, "please."

Nick gave her a half-hearted smile, squeezing her hands with his.

"I don't want to be alone," she said to herself.


	29. Waiting

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** This is nearly the end. Once more, thanks to RivenSky and Tripp3235 for all of their help!

"_The greatest prayer is patience."  
__**Buddha**_

**Chapter 29: Waiting**

The next twenty-four hours went by in a blur.

After she'd been cleared and released Sara went straight to the waiting room with Nick. Through the rest of the night and the next day, people they knew from the lab came and went at regular intervals, but it didn't affect her. Nick alone stayed at her side. Warrick and Catherine had been fairly consumed with the case. Grissom, Ecklie and Brass had all stopped by in turn, but couldn't stay long. The whole thing had turned into a media circus.

It didn't matter.

Greg had gotten through surgery alright, but wasn't given good odds. A lot of damage had been done internally. Dr. Cordova had looked grim when she'd told them that Greg had gone into hypovolemic shock. They had tried to stop the bleeding as fast as they could, but were unable. The result was Greg now suffered from acute renal failure and they feared brain damage. They wouldn't know for certain until he woke up; if he woke up. Dr. Cordova hadn't thought it was likely. She said Greg had been through an extreme shock and his body was shutting down because of it.

Because of this she wasn't allowing any visitors for at least forty-eight hours. They were afraid he might become septic and weren't willing to risk it. Sara had wanted to stay regardless but, with help, Nick was able to convince her to go home.

So she did.

Sara went home, showered and changed. She hadn't thought she'd be able to, but found that once she had lied down she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke, rested but not refreshed, she did the only thing she could think of. Sara got dressed and went to work.

She hadn't been in the building five minutes before Grissom accosted her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working," she stated.

Grissom indicated for her to follow him as he turned and headed back to his office.

"You're on administrative leave," he reminded her as he shut the door.

"I know."

"No," he shook his head, "you don't. Not if you're here. Sara, we're in the middle of processing a case that you're a part of."

"I know," she repeated.

"Your presence alone could compromise the investigation."

"I wasn't…"

"I know you want to…"

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked her voice loud and close to the edge.

Grissom looked momentarily stunned.

"What?" she repeated. "I can't stay at the hospital. I can't go home. I have no where else to be."

There was nothing he could say.

"I just wanted to come here and try and take my mind off of this whole thing for awhile. I can't keep thinking…"

Sara sat down heavily into the nearest chair.

"Of course you can stay," Grissom conceded.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"What do you need? I'll pick up your files and you can work in here tonight."

"Thank you," she repeated.

* * *

After two more nights Greg was finally allowed visitors. Nick had volunteered to go with Sara the first time she went, but she declined. She'd decided she wanted to do this alone. That if she did break down, she didn't want to be seen by anyone but Greg. It was just something she had to do.

Sara stood outside the room for a moment, bracing herself before finally opening the door and stepping inside.

Her first instinct was to turn around and go.

He looked worse than she could have ever imagined. Greg was pale and had a dozen or more monitors, wires, tubes… it was too much.

"Hello."

Sara startled momentarily, turned to face the voice she didn't recognize.

"Sorry," the man said, coming over to her from where he'd been sitting in the corner. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Jake, Greg's brother-in-law."

"Anne's husband," Sara nodded in understanding.

He smiled slightly, looking extremely awkward.

"She just stepped out," he continued. "We've been trying to reach Bridget and Tom since we found out but they're in Europe and well…"

Sara nodded.

"And you are?"

"Oh," Sara said, shaking her head, "I'm Sara. Sara Sidle."

"Do you work with Greg?" Jake asked.

Before she could answer the door opened and Anne came inside.

Sara saw the recognition as Anne looked at her. She half expected Anne to ask her to leave, but to her great surprise she came straight over to her.

"I don't think we were formally introduced," Anne said, smiling weakly and extending her hand. "I'm Anne, Greg's sister. You've met my husband?"

Sara started to answer 'yes' but Anne went on.

"I'm sorry we have to get acquainted this way," she said, crossing herself with her arms. "Sara, right? When we weren't fighting Greg talked a lot about you."

Anne abruptly turned to the window, away from them both. Jake was at her side a second later, whispering in her ear. Anne didn't seem to want comfort.

"No," Anne said rather loudly to her husband, turning back around and shrugging him off. "No. I'm fine."

Sara tried hard to appear that she wasn't looking, but couldn't avoid Anne's gaze. She didn't think so before, but now Sara could see the resemblance. Anne and Greg had the same chocolate colored eyes.

"It was stupid," Anne said.

Sara gave her a hard look, not sure what she meant by that.

"The fight," she clarified. "The whole thing was stupid."

Sara said nothing. It wasn't her place.

"He's so smart," Anne went on, just needing to talk. "He's my only brother, you know, but we've never been close. Maybe it's because everything always came so easy for him. He breezed through high school and college. He could have done anything he wanted to and this…"

Anne sunk down in the nearest chair as she began to cry.

"This is what he wanted to do," Sara said softly once Anne had calmed down.

"I know," Anne said, taking her husband's hand.

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Jake," Anne said, suddenly standing, "let's go for a walk. Sara will stay till we get back, right? I'm sure she wants…"

Sara nodded. She did want to be alone with Greg for awhile.

Anne stopped at the door and turned back.

"I hope you don't think," she said, barely getting the words out as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. "I hope you know that I love my brother. We're just not compatible as friends… but it doesn't mean…"

Sara's throat felt tight; she only smiled tightly as Anne and Jake left the room. Alone, Sara didn't know what to do with herself. Finally she decided to pull up a chair beside Greg's bed.

Tenderly she took hold of his hand, running her thumb across his knuckles; hoping for some sign.

* * *

Days began to slip into weeks without any change.

As expected, Saul Harper pled out to avoid the death penalty. As part of his agreement he agreed to disclose all the murders he had committed. Sara found that for once she couldn't listen. No explanation would ever be good enough.

Sara tried to live her life as normally as she could, but it was mostly a lie. She spent every night at work and every day at the hospital. Surprisingly, she'd become good friends with Anne who had suspended her medical practice to stay in Vegas. Anne and Sara had only one thing in common and they weren't giving up on him.

Finally the day she knew would arrive did. Anne was nearing her eighth month of pregnancy and couldn't stay in Vegas forever. She had a home and a life to get back to. Greg was stable, but showing no signs of recovery. He couldn't stay in the hospital forever.

"It really is a nice place," Jake told her. "You'd be welcome to come and stay with us whenever you like."

Sara blinked back tears, biting her lips.

"He'll be well taken care of," Anne added, seeming resolved. "Close to family."

Not long ago Sara would have argued the exact opposite. That Greg's family was here, but she couldn't now. Not after Anne and Jake had shown such devotion.

"It's for the best."

Sara knew that this day would arrive, the day when they'd have to talk about long-term care. Have to face the reality that Greg wasn't getting better and he wasn't going to wake up.

She just hadn't been prepared.

* * *

Sara had left the hospital that night feeling lower than she'd thought possible. It was worse even than when she'd first found out. At least then there had been hope; hope was gone now.

Half distracted through the shift meeting, she couldn't push it away.

Three days; in three days Greg was going to be transported back to L.A. possibly forever. Not possibly, probably.

The meeting ended around her and Sara hadn't even noticed.

"Ready?" Nick asked from the door.

Sara looked up, confused.

"We've got a crash to get to," he reminded.

Sara said nothing, just got up and followed him down to the locker room to collect her things. They were on their way in no time.

Nick and Sara worked silently at the scene; the weather was unseasonably cold. Sara hardly felt the difference; she just took photographs and collected evidence. Same as always.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked after nearly an hour of complete silence.

Sara's only answer was a crisp nod.

"If you want to talk or…"

Sara's phone rang stalling Nick from asking any further questions.

She checked the ID and sighed; it was Anne.

"Hello," she said into it, turning her back to Nick and taking several steps away.

Nick watched as Sara's whole body language changed. Phone still to her ear, she staggered backwards for several steps before he'd managed to rush over and grab hold of her. Sara dropped her phone and sobbing buried her head into his chest.

"It's over," was the only thing he heard her say.


	30. Ending I

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**READ ME:** I wrote two endings, which is in part why this took so long. Chapter 30i is the original, it's the one I feel really does end this story, and it's also the one I think that people will like the least. Chapter 30ii is the ending I had hoped to write, the one I didn't think up until I was done with 30i and is also Tripp3235 and RivenSky's (thank you ladies!) favorite of the two. I completely feel like I'm copping out by not just posting 30i, but the two kind of complement each other. My hope is that anyone still reading will read them both. That's it except for thanks!

"_If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.__"  
__**Orson Wells**_

**Chapter 30: Ending I**

"I got the pictures," Sara said into her phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "She's beautiful."

Sara listened as Jake exalted the praises of his newborn baby daughter a subject he never seemed to tire of, even a month later. She made her way through the lab with her head down appearing intent on the conversation, even if she heard only half of it.

It was the end of her last night.

Sara had promised to give it some time, but it wasn't going to work. Three months had passed and she couldn't let go. She needed a change of scenery, a change of life. Greg's replacement had only sealed the deal. Sara couldn't work here any longer.

Ducking into the break room to finish the call, Sara sighed as she hung up.

"Everything alright?" Catherine asked from the table.

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "That was Jake. He wanted to see when I'd be by and if I got the pictures they'd sent."

"Do you have them on you?" she asked, standing and striding over.

"Here," Sara smiled, taking them out of her wallet.

"She is adorable," Catherine beamed. "Bethany, right?"

"Yes."

"Well," Catherine said, still examining the picture, "they'll have their hands full I'm sure, she's got…"

Catherine stopped and forced an awkward smile.

"Greg's hair," Sara provided. "I know. Anne says the same thing. Can't get it to lie flat at all."

"Greg never tried very hard to do that," Catherine added warmly.

"No," Sara said, taking the picture back and putting it away, "he certainly didn't."

"So L.A. first?" Catherine asked.

"L.A. first," Sara repeated, feeling as if she was on autopilot. "I might not make it back to the west coast for some time. Thought I'd say goodbye to Anne and Jake. To Greg."

Catherine nodded; she hadn't been able to attend the funeral herself since he'd been buried in Los Angeles. There had been a memorial in Vegas, but ultimately he rested at his families plot.

"I've always heard good things about Boston," Catherine continued.

"Yeah, well, I figured since I went to college there… good a place as any, right?"

"Right."

"I've got to…"

"Go," Catherine provided. "I know. Good luck, Sara."

Sara managed one last weak smile before she turned and left.

Once she got to the locker room, she didn't hesitate. Sara opened her locker and began to empty its contents into her bag.

"You weren't going to skip out without saying goodbye, were you?" Warrick asked from behind.

"We said goodbye last night," Sara returned without moving.

Warrick leaned back and nodded.

"Sara…"

"Warrick, please," she interrupted him, slamming her locker shut as she spoke. "I can't. I just…"

Sara stopped, having caught sight of the locker marked 'ESLICH' that used to say 'SANDERS'.

"I can't," she whispered.

"You'll keep in touch?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

Sara nodded silently still facing the lockers as she reached up and placed her hand over his. He didn't try again to persuade her, just patted her once more on the back before leaving.

She took a moment to compose herself before gathering her things and heading for the door. Sara did her best to hold her head high as she left. A few of the techs from day shift she knew and recognized smiled that smile, the one she'd been getting since Greg had died. That tentative, nervous smile like they were afraid she was going to break. It only strengthened her resolve. It wasn't the reason why she was leaving; well, it wasn't the only reason she was leaving.

"Sara," Grissom called, just as she'd gotten to the door.

Taking a deep breath she turned back round towards the sound of his voice.

"Yes?"

Grissom smiled at her, but it felt forced. He'd probably fought hardest for her to stay and he probably was also the one who least understood why she had to go. Ultimately though, he'd accepted it. He had to.

"I've got a colleague in Boston," he said as he held out a business card to her. "He'll be expecting your call. When you're ready."

Sara took the card with a simple 'thank you'.

"And you know that you'll always have a place here."

She nodded, but they both knew she wouldn't be back.

"Take care of yourself," Grissom said.

"You too."

Sara pocketed the card and turn in a haste to leave.

The daylight was assaulting to the senses, but welcome. Sara hadn't been able to breathe properly inside the lab for some time. She knew she was doing the right thing, it felt right, but she'd miss it. She'd miss her friends.

Sara stopped in her tracks twenty feet from her car.

Nick.

She should have known.

"You're not going to change my mind," she sighed as she pulled out her keys.

"I know," Nick said, sliding off the hood of her car as he spoke, "but I thought I'd try."

"I have to do this."

"Why?" Nick asked. "Sara, I know it's hard but you have to give it time. You can't just run away…"

"Is that what everyone thinks?" she asked in return. "That I'm running away?"

Nick didn't answer, just looked down as he ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"Is that what you think?" she asked.

"Well…"

Sara laughed sardonically.

"I'm leaving," she said, "because I've wasted my life. I'm leaving because I still have a chance to have a life, but not here."

Nick said nothing, just shuffled his feet and looked awkward.

"Nick," Sara said, calmer now, "I've been doing a lot of thinking about the choices I've made. All the things I've done and given up to be who I am. And you know, I could probably stay here and push through. Get back into a routine and just make it work. It would take some time, a lot of time, but I might be okay. I could be my old self."

She paused, arranging the thoughts in her head.

"Or I could go," she continued. "I could take a chance and just go."

"But you don't know…"

"I know that I used to take chances," she cut him off. "A long time ago, I did. And for whatever reason I stopped. I just stopped living and just kind of existed. Either I was too afraid to get hurt or too afraid of change. And I don't know how, but Greg…"

Sara, so steady before, inexplicably choked on his name.

"Greg changed that," she finished. "And that's why. I don't want to be my old self again; he wouldn't want that either."

Nick thought he understood what she was saying, but it was still hard to hear.

"He'd want me to laugh and smile," Sara said. "And I can't, not here. Not when every time I walk that hall I expect to see him turn the corner…"

She hadn't realized she'd been crying until Nick took her up into his arms.

"You understand," she asked, having collected herself, "don't you?"

"Yeah," Nick nodded solemnly, "I do."

Sara flashed him the briefest of smiles.

"I still wish you'd stay," he added.

"I'll visit," she promised. "Or you can come see me. Boston's a nice town."

Sara put her things into the trunk before coming back over to him.

"You know," she started, "it's never too late to take a chance."

"I don't…"

"Nick," Sara interrupted, "you do know what I mean. I think we all get caught up from time to time in what we do, but there are other things out there besides this job."

"Sara…"

"I don't want you to wake up one day like me and realize you waited too long."

Nick looked as if he didn't know what to say to that.

"Goodbye then," Sara managed, hugging him one last time.

"Bye, Sara."

Nick watched as she got into her car and pulled away, feeling a little lost. Everything was happening so fast. First Greg and now Sara. Just gone. There was some comfort in knowing that Sara he could at least see again, but he doubted even that. He was certain that Sara wouldn't come back to Vegas.

"You alright?"

Nick turned at the sound of a very familiar voice.

"Fine," he managed with a small nod.

"I can't believe she's really going," Sofia said sadly. "I can't pretend we got along, but I liked her. She had her own way."

"That she did," Nick said, looking at his feet.

Sofia seemed to want to say something more, but couldn't quite do it.

"I've… I got that credit card report you needed," she finally said. "For the Wu case. Now's probably not the time."

"No," he answered, turning towards her and trying a smile on, "now's fine."

Sofia scrutinized him for a minute, seemingly mulling him over.

"Why don't we go get some coffee," she said. "You look like you need a break."

Nick stammered but didn't respond.

"Or no," Sofia continued, "forget it. You probably… never mind. I'm just going to drop these off inside. I'll see you later."

Nick watched her turn and go, but only so far.

"Sofia," he called out, running a bit to catch her. "I think I'd like that. Coffee."

Sofia smiled at him as she nodded in agreement.

Nick smiled back, the first real smile he'd worn in quite some time and thought about what Sara had said.

It was time for a change.

**The End**


	31. Ending II

**Foretold by SLynn**

**Summary:** A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

**Spoilers:** Through 'Gum Drops'

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

**Notes:** Please read disclaimer at the beginning of the last chapter.

"_If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.__"  
__**Orson Wells**_

**Chapter 30: Ending II**

Nick drove as fast as he could to the hospital, Sara was in no condition. He hadn't been able to get much of anything out of her. Nick had to make all the necessary arrangements to leave the scene, Warrick agreeing in no time to take their places. He hadn't dared ask why, but Warrick had wished for the best.

Sara stared out the window the entire time, tapping her foot and praying, honestly praying, for the first time in a long time.

She hardly waited for the truck to stop before she was out of it and racing towards the garage's elevator.

"Wait up," Nick hollered, just catching her before the doors shut.

Sara didn't apologize, just urged the elevator to move faster under her breath.

When they finally got inside the hospital, Nick was once again forced to chase her. Sara raced the whole way until they neared the ICU. Inexplicably she slowed to a halt just outside the doors, groping blinding for Nick's hand; needing the extra support.

"Its okay, Sara," Nick said, pulling her gently forward.

She nodded, wanting to believe it but knowing she wouldn't until she saw for herself. Hesitating only slightly, Sara pushed the door open with Nick at her side.

Jake was waiting for them with a smile on his face.

"The doctor's are seeing him now," he said, rushing over to them, "but I think he's alright. It was the strangest thing; he just woke up."

Nick and Sara let out nearly identical nervous laughs.

"Anne's still with him," Jake continued, "but he's been asking for you."

"Me?" Sara echoed, unable to help but be surprised.

"Of course he is," Jake answered. "I think… he woke up a little confused… he wasn't sure what happened to you…"

Sara nodded.

"We told him that you were alright, of course," he added. "But I don't think he's going to believe it until he sees you for himself."

She couldn't help but smile at that.

"How long until we can see him?" Nick asked.

Jake led them over to some nearby chairs to give them the details. Dr. Cordova, despite Greg's seeming recovery, still wanted to do a thorough exam. It could take awhile, but Sara had never been happier to wait before in her life. She'd wait forever if they asked her too.

Finally, nearly two hours after they'd arrived, the doctor came out to talk.

"You can't stay long," she advised. "He's still very weak, but I think given some time he'll make a full recovery."

Sara thanked Dr. Cordova profusely before together they all went back to Greg's room.

"I'll leave you here," Dr. Cordova said just outside the door.

No one moved. Sara soon realized that both men were waiting on her, but she wasn't sure she could do it. It just seemed too good to be true.

"Well?" Nick asked, patting her gently on the back.

"Yeah," Sara sighed.

Jake pulled open the door and Sara stepped quietly inside. Anne, sitting in Sara's usual spot right next to the bed, looked over and smiled warmly. Leaning over she said something softly to Greg, who was at the moment turned towards her, but only for a moment. Sara just caught her name come from Anne's lips and with that Greg instantly turned towards her.

Anne stood up and headed towards her. She was smiling, but Sara could tell that she hadn't been for long; the evidence of tears still lingered on her face.

"We'll give you two some privacy," she told Sara, taking a brief hold of her arm before passing her by.

Sara heard the door click softly shut behind her but still she hadn't moved.

Greg was looking at her, staring at her with the same expression she imagined herself to be wearing; one of total disbelief.

"I can't…" Sara started, moving further into the room. "I just… I can't…"

Her hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking and she had no idea what to say. As soon as she took her seat Greg eagerly reached over and took hold of her hands with his.

"I know what you mean," he managed, his voice broken from lack of use.

Sara laughed, even as she cried.

Greg reached up and ran a hand across her cheek, smiling as a few tears slipped from the corner of his eyes. Sara leaned in as close as she could, till their foreheads just touched, crying hard with relief now that it really was over.

"Please don't cry," he turned and whispered in her ear. "Don't. It's alright."

But Sara couldn't stop crying, not altogether. She'd been fighting it back for so long, now that she had let go, it was unstoppable. Greg pressed his lips to her forehead and was content holding her until it passed.

"I'd kiss you, but I'm afraid I have about a month's worth of morning breath."

Sara laughed and shook her head.

"I don't mind."

Greg laughed too before pulling her even closer.

* * *

"I got the pictures," Sara said into her phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "She's beautiful."

Sara listened as Jake exalted the praises of his newborn baby daughter a subject he never seemed to tire of, even a month later. She made her way through the lab with head down appearing intent on the conversation, even if she heard only half of it.

It was the beginning of Greg's first night back.

Sara had tried to convince him to give it some more time, but he was too eager to return. Greg's recovery had gone much smoother than anyone could have hoped for, especially given its beginning.

Ducking into the break room to finish the call, Sara sighed as she hung up.

"Everything alright?" Catherine asked from the table.

"Good," Sara said with a smile. "I'm just…"

Sara shrugged, she didn't know what. Mostly nervous. Scared even. Greg back at work meant Greg in the field. Sara wasn't sure she was up to it.

"Was that Greg?" Catherine asked, sensing the other woman's distress.

"No," Sara answered, "it was Jake. He was just checking to see that we'd made it back alright and if we got the pictures they'd sent."

"How was the trip?"

"Interesting," Sara said with a laugh. "Greg's going to spoil his niece rotten, not that Anne and Jake aren't."

"I remember that phase," Catherine sighed. "They start off so cute and sweet and then well…"

"They become teenagers?"

"Don't remind me," Catherine deadpanned.

Sara laughed, saying a hasty goodbye as she headed back down the hall towards the locker room.

"I thought Greg was coming in with you?" Warrick asked, as she opened her locker to prepare for the night.

"He took his own car," Sara said, switching to a lighter jacket as she talked. "I think he's finally sick of being chauffeured around."

"The way he drives you'd think he'd be thankful."

"That's what I said," Sara returned.

"So," Warrick said, suddenly serious, "is he ready?"

Sara turned and faced him, sitting on the bench before answering.

"Yeah, I think so. He thinks so."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Sara asked back. "Can you ever really be ready?"

Warrick shook his head, not to disagree but in understanding.

"You'll be alright," Warrick said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a firm but friendly squeeze.

"I will," Sara agreed standing and walking with him back to the break room for the pre-shift meeting.

"Good," Grissom said upon seeing them both, "we can start."

"Aren't we waiting for Greg?" Nick asked; everyone else was already in place.

"Greg called and said he was running late," Grissom assured him.

"On his first night back," Nick laughed.

"Figures," Warrick added with a chuckle.

The meeting was quickly done, everyone ready with fresh assignments, Grissom asked Sara to stay for a quick word.

"Ecklie has some concerns about you and Greg working the same shift," he started.

Sara stared at him, hard, not liking where this was going.

"Knowing the level of involvement between you two, he's afraid it will compromise the work environment."

"And?"

"And," Grissom echoed, "I told him that it was my shift. And if I had no problem with it, he shouldn't either."

Sara pressed her lips together, unable to completely suppress the smile that overcame her.

"That's it?"

"That's it," he said, moving past her and towards the door.

Sara turned to follow him out, when he stopped abruptly and faced her again.

"When you see Greg, will you ask him to stop by my office?"

"How do you know I'll see him first?"

Grissom didn't answer, merely gave her one of his looks before really going this time.

"What was that all about?" Nick asked, catching up to her in the halls.

"Nothing," Sara shrugged, "Ecklie doesn't want Greg and I working together is all."

"Really?" Nick asked, sounding worried. "Is that like policy or something?"

"Why?" Sara asked back, giving him a shrewd look.

"No reason," he tried downplaying it. "You know, I'm just looking out for you."

"Right."

Nick gave her a wink, accompanying her a few more yards down the hall before he stopped.

"I'll just go now," Nick said, taking a few steps backwards before turning and walking away.

Sara was momentarily confused until she looked up and saw Greg heading around the corner her way.

Greg looked different than he had before. He'd regained some of the weight he'd lost, but he still had that look to him. The look someone had when they'd been seriously ill. It was his pallor, his air.

But of all the things that had changed about him, his walk wasn't one of them. Sara couldn't help but beam when she saw him. And she couldn't help but be thrilled to see his face light up in return.

"I've missed this place," he said once he reached her. "It's kind of like coming home."

"That just proves you need to get out more."

"Four months is long enough," Greg said, turning to walk back with her even though it was the direction he'd just came.

"Well," Sara added, "I can honestly say the lab wasn't the same without you."

"Sara Sidle, are you flirting with me?"

She said nothing, just rolled her eyes in mock irritation.

"I am serious though," he continued. "It is good to be back. I really didn't think…After everything that's happened," Greg continued, "I wasn't sure I could come back. After Ashley, Henry, Harper…I thought it would all change for me. That I wouldn't want to be here. But I do."

Sara waited, knowing he wasn't done just yet.

"I used to think that everything happens for a reason."

"And now?" Sara asked.

"I still do," he returned. "I just don't think we're always meant to know what that reason is."

Sara gave him a very serious look.

"I'm fine," Greg answered before she could ask. "Really, I am. I'd tell you if I wasn't."

"I know," Sara replied.

"Good," he answered, opening the door to the garage. "Now where are we headed? My case is in my trunk, so if we just swing by… what?"

"Nothing," Sara said, suddenly teary-eyed without explanation. "It's just… it's really good to have you back."

"You've had me back for months," he argued without a trace of remonstration in his voice.

"But it's different here. This place was different without you."

Greg reached out and took her hands.

"Too bad you have the no making-out rule at work rule," Greg said. "Because I really want to kiss you now."

"Well," Sara said, looking around, "we are in the garage."

Greg laughed before pulling her into a tight embrace.

**The End**

**A/N: **If you made it this far, thanks for reading!


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